


The Prince, The Technician, The Knights and The Witch

by Phoenix_Rose



Series: A (Marginally Secret) Sorcerer on Her Majesty’s (Marginally Secret) Service  …Plus a prat of a Field Agent (Prince) [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Merthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Rose/pseuds/Phoenix_Rose
Summary: Merlin Myrddin, not-so-fresh out of college, now, is pretty comfortable at Camelot, keeping the best ICT systems and agent of Great Britain in (near) perfect condition.  If we ignore the fact that, having magic in Camelot is pretty much a one-way ticket to interrogation under Uther Pendragon's laws.And the fact that secrets and conflict from his and Arthur and Uther's past are coming back to haunt them.And the fact that, after the truth of Ygraine Pendragon's untimely death is revealed, nothing can ever be the same again.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! Welcome to the sequel! Are you excited? I am!

* * *

 

“You don’t mind, do you, Merlin?”  Arthur looked up from the report he’d taken home (most definitely against protocol) and peeked almost guiltily at Merlin.  The sorcerer looked back, confused.

“Mind what, Arthur?”

“That we have to keep it… us... secret.”  Arthur sighed, “I know you don’t like lying to Gaius.”  If it were up to him, he’d probably have shouted it from the rooftops that Merlin - _Merlin_ \- was his boyfriend.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t.  It was up to the rules strictly forbidding romantic relationships, and the fact his father would likely disown him if he even hinted at being bisexual.

“I’m better at keeping secrets than you think,” Merlin said quietly.  His whole life had been spent lying to nearly everyone he knew.

“Yeah, because you were so good at hiding your magic from me.”

Merlin gave a mock scowl.  “Shut up.”

 

*

 

_ENTER QUERY >> PENDRAGON, YGRAINE _

_RESTRICTED ACCESS >> FOR YOUR EYES ONLY _

_ENTER PASSWORD >> _ ************

ACCESS GRANTED >>

 

_Agent Ygraine Pendragon nee Du Bois of MI6, who married Uther Pendragon, was one of the most talented agents in the service.  She was killed by Nimueh Carr soon after the birth of her son when she was too weak to defend herself._

 

“Lies!”

The blonde woman slammed shut the lid of her laptop.  How did Uther  _dare_ lie to the world like this, spreading hateful untruths about a High Priestess?  She made her decision - the truth must be known.

And who better to start with than the son?

 

*

 

“Did you feel that, Markus?”

“Feel what, Lord Drakon?”

Drakon smiled, brushing off the pleasant shiver that had run down his spine, “Change, Markus.  Magic called out for change. Magic’s time is coming.”

Markus grinned at his master.  For years he had served him loyally, alone.  The Order of Dragonlords had disbanded after the failure of the Uprising, and it was up to Markus to protect his master, to help him train and plan for their time.  And now, finally, it had arrived. “We’re ready, my lord. The Order will respond to your call, I know, and others will flock to us.”

Drakon nodded.  “This time, we will be unstoppable.”


	2. Chapter 1 - Operation Sigan

Merlin Myrddin was in a bad mood.

This wasn’t a totally uncommon thing, seeing how he worked with Arthur ‘Arrogant Pratface’ Pendragon, but to explain why he was of a particularly foul temperament at this particular moment, one would have to go back a good forty minutes.

 

*

 

“Merlin.  Merlin!”

Arthur’s disgruntled yelling echoed through the corridor until it reached the long-suffering ears of the warlock in question.  Sighing loudly and ceasing his packing up for the day, Merlin walked to the bedroom Arthur was using that night, seeing as his father was working late and might have need of him.

“Yes, sire?” he asked sarcastically.  “Do you need tucking in? Reading a bedtime story?  A goodnight kiss, perhaps?”

Arthur glared at him, pinking slightly at the final suggestion.  “Are you deaf, Merlin?”

Pricking up his ears, Merlin could hear the same arguments about digging a tunnel that had been going on for hours - mainly, there were disputes over the cost, but he couldn’t really hear it at the moment - and winced.  “I wish.”

“Someone needs to tell them to be quiet.  No one can concentrate.”

Merlin raised a wry eyebrow, “And precious princes can’t sleep?”

“Shut up and get to it, Merlin.”

“What?  Me?” He looked nervously to the room where the voices were coming from, “No way!  It’s your father in there!”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes!”  And with good reason - Merlin and Uther had never seen eye-to-eye, though the head didn’t know that because he didn’t value Merlin’s opinion enough to ask for it.  What Uther did know about Merlin was that he hated him. A few turns covering for Arthur (plus some unfortunate clumsiness), and Uther had declared him incompetent and absolutely  _ not  _ his problem.  He was Arthur’s responsibility, and it was pretty common knowledge that if Arthur wished, Merlin would be tossed out on his arse.

Still, that didn’t matter to the prat; Arthur laughed and dragged him along to see what on (or rather, under) earth was going on.

 

As it turned out, the argument had moved on from whether it was costing the taxpayer too much to whether it was morally acceptable to keep digging after a body had been discovered in the tunnel.  A new body, someone who’d got curious and snuck in. Uther said ‘Yes’. The others present said ‘No, it’s bloody well not’. But Uther was head and he tended to get his own way with these things because, like Merlin, most sane people were rather scared of him.

Luckily for everyone, however, Gaius Myrddin was a sane man who wasn’t afraid of Uther Pendragon, having known him since they were both young men working for MI6.  He suggested, as the main peace broker of Camelot, that he be allowed to examine the young man who had died and check for a cause of death before any major decision was made.

 

*

 

And  _ that _ was why Merlin Myrddin was in a terrible mood;  he’d been three minutes from going home and had ended up being dragged in a cold, dark tunnel to peer at a dead man with his uncle.  And he wouldn’t be paid overtime for it.

“Do stop grumbling, Merlin,” Gaius said idly, crouching at the corpse on the ground.  Merlin decided to comply, if only because he was bored of maintaining a scowl, and because he was a little curious.

“How d’you think he died?  And do you know what’s down here?”

“No.”  Gaius raised himself to his feet, taking a step forward.  A dart shot out from the wall, heading straight for his neck.

 

Eyes flashing a shimmering, terrified gold, time slowed around Merlin.  With just a gesture, a loose stone was propelled forward, knocking the deadly projectile from the air.  Releasing a gust of air, he allowed time to continue along on its allotted path.

“You just saved my life,” Gaius gaped.  Merlin decided to not be offended by his surprise.

“Do you think this place might be cursed?” he asked nervously.  Shooting darts from the walls were never a great omen.

 

Arthur and Uther walked in and Gaius thought better of answering.  Instead, he looked at the body again and concluded that he was killed by a dart, probably poisoned.

“We must be close to something then,” Arthur said, “else no one would bother setting traps.”

“We must continue digging,” Uther announced.  “Send in the workmen.”

 

Merlin helped Gaius remove the poor soul who’d fallen foul of the trap whilst the Pendragons remained to see what would be uncovered beneath the foundations of Camelot and her neighbouring buildings.  They waited for the ambulance that would transport the corpse to Camelot’s morgue - they didn’t need the regular police interfering in their business - and then sat outside the tunnel, waiting to be summoned once again.  And they would be, at some point, because Gaius was the main authority on sorcery, and Merlin was his nephew/dogsbody/tag-along nuisance.

 

_From:_ _Prince of Camelot_

_ You and Gaius can come _ __   
_ down now.  And you  _ __   
_ won’t believe what’s down _ _   
_ __ here.

 

“We have an idea of why the traps were laid,” Arthur said as Gaius and Merlin returned.  “To deter grave robbers.”

“There’s plenty in here people would want to steal,” Uther confirmed.

He wasn’t wrong, Merlin decided as he looked around.  The four of them were surrounded by treasures that, though covered by centuries of dust, cobwebs and neglect, were obviously worth a fortune.  Pots decorated with gold, chests full to bursting of ancient gold coins and jewels: the list went on. In the centre lay the final resting place of the man the wealth belonged to - though, even when pressed, Gaius could not tell them who that might be - a great stone coffin with a glowing blue heart-shaped stone held by gold bands in its chest.

“Have them secure the tomb,” Uther demanded, his cold eyes lit up by the excitement of discovering such wealth.  “Guarding it is your responsibility, Arthur.”

“Yes, Father.”

 

Three days later and, amazingly, nothing had gone wrong.  Merlin suspected that the corpse had deterred thieves (it had certainly made him never want to go in there again).  So life went on as normal, and Arthur was holed up in his office interviewing a young man who, for some bizarre reason, wanted to be a secretary.  Merlin could vouch for the dullness of the occupation as he stood putting away files in Arthur’s desk, even though it wasn’t really his job.

“And your name is…?”

“Cedric, sir,” the man smiled at Arthur, watching him look over his application, “Cedric Browne.”

 

_ “So, this jewel,” Cedric asked, ordering more beer for his already tipsy companion, “how big did you say it was?” _

_ “About that size,” slurred Tom, holding up his fist.  He’d been on the digging team and, normally, was so scared of Uther’s influence that his lips were sealed tighter than Fort Knox.  Today, however, having been plied with plentiful and free drinks, he was far more open. _

_ “My word, really?  About that size, you say?  Well, I never. Here you are,” he pushed the fresh pint glass across the slightly damp wooden table, “drink up.  And, uh, this tomb. I bet they got that locked up nice and safe, haven’t they?” _

_ “Tighter than a king’s coffers.” _

 

“Why do you want to work here?” Arthur asked.  He didn’t particularly want to know; most people lied, anyway, and Cedric’s application pretty much guaranteed him the job.

“Well, you know,” Cedric smiled his most charming smile, “just want the experience.”

 

_ “Must be a way in though,” Cedric pried gently, sipping from his own first, barely touched drink. _

_ “Only with the keys.” _

 

“And, of course, the honour of serving the country,” Cedric added swiftly.  Arthur raised an eyebrow, turning to see Merlin’s expression. His handler seemed to have taken ill at the words.  

“The  _ honour _ ,” Arthur mouthed.  Merlin could learn a thing or two from this man, like not pulling a face when someone expressed the proper gratefulness at receiving such a prestigious position or rolling his eyes at the top agent when the aforementioned someone turned away for a moment.  “Well, Cedric,” he said, closing the man’s application and background check, “you can start off in a secretarial position in here.”

The new secretary smiled widely.

 

_ “Right, right, right,” he nodded.  “And… who has the keys?” _

_ “You must think I’m an idiot,” Tom laughed, apparently not as drunk as Cedric had thought.  “I’m not telling you  _ that _.” _

_ “Course not,” he said smoothly, hurrying before he caused offence or, even worse, the purpose to his probing was discovered.  “No, a bright lad like you knows what that sort of information’s worth. No, we don’t want everyone to see. Believe me, this place is full of thieves.  Put it inside your shirt. And, uh, careful of that fellow over there,” he nodded to a convenient stranger on the other side of the room. _

_ “Which one?” _

_ “That one.”  Cedric surreptitiously pointed to the stranger, “Far end of the bar.  He keeps watching you. See him?” _

_ “Yeah,” Tom said, eyes in the right general direction, “yeah, I see him.  One with the beard?” _

_ That hadn’t been him, but never mind.  “Yeah, that’s the one.” _

_ “Thanks, mate,” Tom said, grinning broadly, “I’ll keep my eye on him.” _

_ Cedric nodded, before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, “So, who's got the keys?” _

_ “Arthur Pendragon,” Tom whispered back, the copious alcohol impairing his volume control and wafting from his breath.  “But don’t get your hopes up. They’re in his office, and only him and his handler ever go in there.” _

_ “No one else?” _

_ “Well,” Tom furrowed his brow, “suppose if he had a secretary they’d go in there, too.” _

 

“I don’t like him,” Merlin decided a few days into Cedric’s employment as he leant on a large pile of paper resting on Arthur’s desk.  “No one whose that much of a suck-up can be good news.”

Arthur didn’t take much notice of his decision.  He was probably rather flattered by Cedric’s constant wish to be close to him, the fact he was always ready to file papers and try and talk to him.  (And no, despite any accusations, it was not any kind of  _ jealousy  _ that was causing Merlin to distrust him so.  It was just… instinct.)

 

“Morning, Arthur,” Cedric chirped, coming into the office without knocking.

“Morning, Cedric,” Arthur replied, keeping his focus on his computer screen.

“Here, paperwork,” Merlin said in place of greeting, standing straight and picking up the mound he’d been leaning on.  He shoved it roughly into the man’s waiting arms, nearly forcing him backwards, “Oh, sorry.”

Arthur smirked to himself, carrying on his typing.  Merlin was  _ definitely  _ jealous - normally for a person to draw his ire so quickly they had to be plotting major evil deeds.

 

“So, sir,” Cedric said as he worked, drawing Merlin’s attention from… whatever it was he was doing.  Cedric wasn’t completely sure he  _ was  _ doing anything,  he might just be lingering in the office.  “Do you fancy heading to the pub tonight? On me, of course.”

Merlin scowled from where he was lingering (he was waiting for Cedric to leave so he could talk to Arthur properly), but smoothed his expression in an instant - it counted as a neutral expression even if his eyes were shooting death-glares, he was sure of it.  An instant too slow for Arthur not to notice, choke on a hastily smothered chuckle, and say, “Sounds great. Do you fancy it, Merlin?”

“Huh?”  He snapped into focus, ceasing his glaring, “Sure, sounds good.”

Cedric seemed displeased that Merlin had been invited along, but made no comment.  Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like he was going to leave, so Merlin did (the last thing he needed was for Gaius to come and yell at him).

 

The pub Cedric chose (that he frequented, apparently, which wasn’t hard to believe seeing how the bartender’s face lit up at the sight of them) was pretty dingy.  Neither of his guests drank very much at all - who in their right minds would trust those glasses? - and they decided to leave fairly early. Cedric scowled to himself; he had hoped to get Arthur drunk enough to tell him where the keys were.  Perhaps if Merlin hadn’t been there he’d have managed it. He sighed, out of the others’ earshot. He’d just have to find a time where the interfering handler couldn’t get in his way.

Merlin’s head was slightly fuzzy from the drinks he’d had (alright, so maybe he was a  _ little  _ bit of a lightweight) but he was still alert enough to know that Cedric’s eyes were focussed like a laser on the back of his neck.  He swallowed nervously, trying to ignore it. Sure, the man was a bit of a suck-up, but he was hardly going to hurt him for… for… Why would he want to hurt him?

He shook his head minutely.  It was best not to dwell on it.  It’d just make him paranoid.

 

Later, he wasn’t entirely clear on what had happened.  

What he was clear on, however, was the feeling of terror as the man after their wallets pulled out his gun and aimed at Arthur’s head, the fact that he was shoved roughly to the side by his stupid, noble idiot, and the fact that the edge of his sight was tinged gold as he flung up a magic shield (disguised as the bin lid he also tossed), only being able to breathe again when the danger had passed - stupid mugger didn’t stick around after he’d fired his shot and missed.

There was a tremor in Merlin’s hands as he watched Arthur; the blond was playing at his cuff, hardly noticeable unless you knew what you were looking for, and his breathing wasn’t quite normal.  But, most importantly, there was no sign of him being injured. It was ok.

 

“You’re welcome,” Cedric said, walking forward and straightening his jacket.  Arthur looked incredulously at the man, who misinterpreted it entirely. “I threw the bin lid.  The shot would have had you, otherwise.”

“Then,” Arthur said, betraying nothing, “it appears that I’m in your debt, and not just because my files are neater than they’ve been in years.”

Cedric smiled and Merlin glared at his back as he walked off, assured by Arthur that his guests would make their own way home.

 

“I know it was you,” Arthur told him as Cedric was out of earshot.  Merlin shrugged, but Arthur seemed distressed. “I can’t understand why he’d say it was him.”

“Trying to get in your good books,” Merlin guessed, nose wrinkling slightly.  The man was such a  _ suck-up _ .  It was fairly sickening and very annoying.  “Come on,” he said eventually, unwilling to let Arthur stand there dwelling on it, “work to do tomorrow.”

 

One more day of Cedric’s slimy presence and Merlin was sat at his desk gripping his pencil hard enough that it was starting to splinter whilst he glared at his screen so hard he nearly burned a hole in it.

“What’s wrong?” Gaius sighed as he walked in and took in the general posture of his nephew.  An annoyed Merlin was never pleasant - it tended to end in spells practised and failing and a general smell of burning in his bedroom that, no matter how much air freshener Gaius supplied, would not be banished.

“Nothing,” he said shortly.  Gaius shot him a look, and Merlin relented.  “Just  _ Cedric _ getting on my nerves.”

“I can’t understand why he riles you up so much.”

Merlin chewed on his bottom lip.  After much consideration, he’d come to the conclusion that it was maybe,  _ maybe _ , something to do with the fact he spent all his time at Arthur’s side, complimenting and flattering and generally trying to weasel his way into Arthur’s trust.  But he could hardly explain that to his uncle. Instead, he looked at the sheets of paper Gaius held. “What are those?”

Gaius noticed the obvious change of topic but decided not to comment.  “I found an inscription on a sceptre from the tomb.” He handed the paper over and Merlin frowned at them.

“What language is this?”

“I don’t know.  Sigan would have known many languages.”

“Sigan?”

“It’s his tomb.”

“Oh.”  Merlin wracked his brains a moment, coming up blank.  “Who’s he?”

“Merlin,” Gaius said, using the tone that he always used when he thought his nephew was being particularly dense, “Sigan was the most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived.  Didn’t Kilgharrah ever mention him?”

Scowling at the mention of their neighbour (who Merlin hadn’t spoken to since the betrayal over the Cup of Life), he shook his head.

 

“You grew up after the Uprising and Operation Purge,” Gaius said, as if justifying the gap in Merlin’s knowledge to himself, “but those of us who came before were told the tales of Sigan as horror stories.”  He shivered slightly, “Cornelius Sigan was a figure of nightmare, an image of what could happen if a sorcerer lost his morality.”

“Why?”

“His power.  He could make day into night, turn the tides at will…  Dark magic was a game to him. His powers were… unstoppable.”

“But…”  Merlin swallowed nervously.  For Gaius to appear frightened was rare indeed.  “But they were just stories, surely.”

Gaius shook his head, “Hints of his magic linger in the ruins of a castle that the records say he built.  In the end, the king of the castle saw that he was corrupted beyond rescue and executed him.”

“Well,” he said, slightly relieved, “if he’s so long dead there’s no reason to be worried.”

“It is said that Sigan couldn’t bear to think that his wealth and power would die with him.  He became obsessed with defeating death itself.”

Merlin paled slightly, “You think he succeeded.”

“Let’s hope not,” Gaius said darkly, “for all our sakes.”

 

“Gaius,” Uther looked over as his old friend entered his office.  “What is it you want?”

“To seal up the burial chamber and all its contents,” he said bluntly.  Uther laughed incredulously.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  The riches in that tomb was enough to fund Camelot and its operations for decades, perhaps longer, without the need for taxes on the general population.  And Uther wasn’t a fool - he knew that removing costs would endear their practices to the people who, every now and then, naively began asking that sorcerers be given the same rights and protections as normal people.

Gaius placed a ring on his table, “I believe that the tomb belongs to Cornelius Sigan.  In the Old Religion, the name Sigan means raven - that is his insignia.”

Uther peered and the silver ring; there was indeed an engraved raven staring unblinkingly up at him.  “No wonder the riches are so great.”

“Then you are aware of the legends, sir?”

“Yes,” he said, reminiscing, “I always enjoyed the tale of an arrogant sorcerer who came to an untimely end.”  Gruesome, too, if he remembered correctly. (Sometimes, in the back of his mind, he thought they should bring back the methods of old.  Fight fire with fire, perhaps…)

“According to the legend,” Gaius persisted, “Sigan cursed the discoverer of his tomb.  He said he would return, and raze the finder’s kingdom to the ground - in these times, that would refer to Camelot.”

Uther chuckled suddenly.  The man had been at his side so long, he almost forgot that his old friend had once practised the magic they were now fighting against and, as such, was susceptible to the rumours and superstitions that sorcerers bandied about.  “Gaius, you have long been my ally in the war against sorcery. You should know better than to believe in these irrational tales.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Gaius turned to leave.

“And Gaius,” he called after him.  The man turned to look at him curiously, “Do not spread panic amongst my employees.  This is foolish superstition, nothing more.”

  
  


*

 

_ Morgana slumped over on her desk in a dead faint.  Gwen gasped and ran to her side, trying to shake her awake.  When that failed, she turned her hand to stopping her from hurting herself as she thrashed and groaned in the grip of whatever dark nightmare her mind had created to torture her. _

 

*

 

Whilst Gaius tried to convince Uther to do the smart thing, Merlin was sent to deal with his son.  Just in case Uther turned out to be as irrational as always. He rapped sharply on the door and was greeted with Cedric’s face.  Without  _ any  _ pleasure whatsoever, he told the smarmy git to get lost.

“Top Secret, I’m afraid,” he smiled sweetly.  “I can only discuss it with Arthur.”

Cedric glared but complied.

 

“What’s wrong?” Arthur demanded, rising from his desk and walking over.

“Gaius thinks that the tomb belongs to Cornelius Sigan.”

“Who?”  Glad that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of the sorcerer before, Merlin gave him a hasty summary of his uncle’s lecture.  At the end, Arthur looked vaguely concerned, “Bad?”

“Incredibly.”

Arthur sighed, leaning on the desk and disrupting several neat piles of paperwork and files.  “What’s Gaius planning?”

“He’s  _ trying  _ to convince Uther to seal the tomb,” Merlin answered, with the look on his face clearly demonstrating exactly how likely he thought it was that Gaius would succeed.  (For the record, he didn’t think Gaius had a snowball’s chance in hell unless Uther’s judgement was impaired by several pints of hard liquor and a terrible fever.) “When that fails, he’s going to try and translate the inscription he found.”

“Why’s he not doing that already?”

“If he can convince your father without it, it’ll be a lot quicker.”

Arthur nodded in understanding.  “So, what’s our plan?”

Merlin shrugged, “Keep an eye out for a Cornelius Sigan who’s risen from the dead and is looking for revenge.”

“Excellent,” Arthur groused, “we have no plan.”

“Do we ever have a proper plan?”

“I-”  Arthur looked affronted, thinking hard.  “Ah ha! When we were apprehending Edwin Muirden we had a proper plan.”

“Which immediately dissolved when he attempted to kill Uther.”  Merlin smirked, “Face it, we improvise.”

Arthur sighed, “That’s probably why we’re so terrible at filling in the paperwork with our plan.”

“That, and we have to think of proper excuses for…” Merlin wiggled his fingers in a terrible approximation of magic.

 

Arthur rolled his eyes at his handler, marvelling at his ability to get them off topic.  “Come on,” he sighed, “you better get back to your station before someone wonders what you’re doing.”

“I’m delivering a Top Secret mission.”

“A story which will be proven by false with anyone with clearance higher than Cedric’s.”

Merlin pouted; Arthur decided that they could wait five minutes before Merlin had to leave and leaned in.

 

Cedric knocked on the door and the pair sighed.

“He’s such a…” Merlin paused, searching for an accurate word.

“Prat?” Arthur suggested as Merlin happened upon his decision of:

“Clotpole.”

“Clotpole?”

The warlock nodded solemnly, glaring towards the door Cedric was concealed behind, “He needs a whole new category of insult.”

They exchanged a look and sniggered.

“Go on,” Arthur told him, “I’ll give you a lift home tonight.  We can finish everything off then.”

And that was apparently sufficient to make Merlin happy enough that he didn’t even glare at Cedric as he left.

 

*

 

_ Morgana woke up with a scream, “Gwen?  Gwen!” _

_ Her secretary and friend wrapped her in her arms, smoothing her hair and rocking her gently, “It’s alright, it’s alright,” she whispered, knowing that it wasn’t alright, no matter how much she repeated it.  “I’m here. I’m here. There’s nothing to be frightened of. Shh, shh, shh.” _

_ Tears streamed down Morgana’s face as she curled into Gwen’s embrace. _

 

*

 

“You’ve cheered up,” Gaius noticed as he entered the medical room (his and Merlin’s agreed meeting place, as it’d be empty) to find his nephew with a broad, un-hideable grin on his face. 

Merlin shrugged, “A bit, maybe.”

“Well,” his uncle said, not entirely willing to crush Merlin’s fine mood, which was the best it had been in quite a while, “I’m afraid I have bad news.  We are in grave peril. I translated the inscription - ‘he who breaks my heart completes my work.’”

“What does that mean?”

“Do you remember the stone in the coffin, the heart, how it glowed?”

Merlin nodded - how could he forget it?  “I’ve never seen a jewel like it.”

“That’s because it’s not a jewel,” came the grim reply, “it’s the soul of Cornelius Sigan.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow as his nephew swore under his breath, but Merlin didn’t seem to notice.  “You think Sigan’s alive?”

“His soul is,” he answered, deciding to lecture his nephew on his language at a later point, “but to be really alive, a soul needs a body.”

“If the stone is removed, the heart is broken and the soul released,” Merlin realised, eyes wide and frightened.

“That’s what I fear.”

 

Both Myrddins jumped as Morgana burst into the room, cheeks streaked with tears.

“My dear,” Gaius said soothingly, seamlessly shedding the role of strategist and supernatural expert to become a physician, “what’s wrong?”

“I had a dream,” Morgana sobbed, before sucking a breath and visibly fighting for a better hold upon herself, “about a bird.”

“A bird?”  Gaius looked curious - Morgana, in her frightened state, couldn’t hope to identify the gleam of nerves concealed in his eyes as he asked, “What kind of bird?”

“A raven.”  She shivered, “It was terrifying.  What does it mean?”

“Probably nothing,” he lied smoothly, ignoring the glare his nephew gifted him.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it,” she moaned, shuddering at the thought of sleepless nights plagued by visions she couldn’t understand.

“Morgana,” he tried to reassure her, “one raven doesn’t mean your nightmares are returning.  Go to Gwen, have her take you home and give you some of the sleeping pills you have.”

Morgana nodded and left, hands trembling.  Gaius didn’t turn to face Merlin’s sour expression.

“Now is not the time,” he told him firmly, a twinge of regret pulling at his gut as he completely reversed Merlin’s change of mood.  “Now, you have to go and double check that Arthur’s keys are safe.”

 

*

 

_ Cedric grinned at the unattended keys, silently thanking the yells that had drawn Arthur from his seat without them.  Though, of course, he was sorry for the poor chap who’d tripped on a stray file and taken a tumble down the stairs. _

*

_ “Oh, yes,” Cedric breathed, staring around at the riches around him.  “Oh, yes! Oh, yes.” Everywhere he turned, more and more riches revealed themselves to his greedy eyes.  “Oh, yes. Ha. Hello ladies.” _

_ He turned and saw the largest jewel he’d ever set eyes upon - the jewel described to him in the pub so long ago.  Smiling, he levered it from where it was set in a coffin. _

_ The blue swirled and danced, and then it fled into him and he knew no more. _

 

*

 

“Cedric’s possessed by an evil spirit,” Merlin hissed to Arthur the next day.  Gaius had received a call informing him that the great heart-shaped stone had been stolen; with the locks undamaged, and only Merlin, Arthur, and Cedric having had access to the keys, it was obvious who’d ended up with more than he’d bargained for.

“What?”

“It was him who stole the jewel - had to have been, only us two and him had access to the key - and whoever dislodged the jewel released Sigan’s soul, and-”

“Myrddin!” Uther boomed, walking down the corridor.  Merlin swallowed nervously. Clearly, he hadn’t been as quiet as he’d thought.  “You’ve gone too far this time, spreading those foul rumours,” Uther growled, glaring at him and obviously thinking that this was simply the latest stage in his and Cedric’s well-documented animosity.  “You can spend a few hours in the cells to cool off.”

_ No _ \- if Merlin wasn’t there to protect Arthur…  “He’s going to destroy everything!” he protested as guards took him away.  “Please, listen to me. Camelot, maybe all of London, is in mortal danger. Sigan is using Cedric’s body to take his revenge!”

 

*

 

_ “I am returned,” Sigan hissed, becoming more and more accustomed to the feel of using the thief's body as his vessel.  “Ic cume eft to Camelot. Swá þæt ic mæg min fæhþ awrecan! Nu ‘ic lybbe ece and ic mæg rædan min burh!” _

_ He smiled as the gargoyles sitting on Camelot’s walls shifted, turning from cold stone to flesh and blood.  The same was happening all around London, were monsters, perfect for his aims, taking flight, and coming to beat at Camelot’s walls and doors. _

 

*

 

Arthur ran, nearly crashing into Gwen (who’d only just returned from settling a sleeping Morgana at home), as he headed towards Merlin’s cell.

“You were right,” he told him, forgoing any greeting.  “There are creatures all around London, heading this way.”

Merlin leapt to his feet, “What do you want me to do?”

“I can’t let you out, father’s got the key,” he said, somewhere between apologetic and glad that Merlin would be kept out of trouble, “but I don’t suppose you know how to exorcise Cedric.”

He shook his head, and Arthur swore.  “I’ll try and figure it out,” he promised, unsure if he was heard as Arthur ran to rejoin the battle.

 

“Have you seen what’s happening?” Uther demanded, furious as looked down on Gaius.

“It as I warned you, sir,” he said calmly.

“This cannot be Sigan.”

“It is his curse,” Gaius said tiredly, “he has come back from the dead.”

“Then he will die again.”

It was a near-thing as Gaius wrestled with the desire to shout at his employer, “You do not understand, sir.  You cannot kill a man who has conquered mortality.”

“Don’t tell me what cannot be done,” Uther growled in response. “Britain will not fall to a sorcerer whilst I still breathe.”

 

Merlin listened to the yells and crashes and general destruction outside, pacing the small space of his cell and biting on his lip.  He couldn’t stand this. People were in danger, and he didn’t know enough to tell Arthur how to fix it.

“Topspringe!”

The door swung open (really, if they didn’t  _ want _ him to escape they should use cold iron cuffs) and he ran.

He didn’t know what to tell Arthur, but perhaps Gaius did.

 

“Gaius,” Merlin whispered, hiding from Uther’s line of sight (though he seemed rather occupied in arguing with his son at present).

“What are you doing here?” his uncle hissed.

“I have to help Arthur,” he said.  It was obvious - he was honestly amazed that Gaius wasn’t used to it by now.

“Merlin, Sigan’s power is far beyond you.”

“I don’t have a choice,” he insisted.  Arthur was his destiny; what was there if Arthur fell?

“But Sigan is immortal and you are not,” Gaius said worriedly.  “If you face him, he will destroy you.”

As if that was going to stop him.  “There must be a way.”

Gaius sighed, “There is only one who might have the answers we need.”

Merlin scowled at the thought, knowing  _ exactly  _ who Gaius meant, “No.”

“Merlin-”

“No.”

“He can help you,” Gaius persisted.

“He helps no one but himself.”

“For Arthur’s sake, you must ask him.”

It was a dirty trick to use Arthur against him, in Merlin’s opinion.  He already knew what the inevitable result would be as he weakly protested, “I can’t.”   _ The last time I asked him to help me save Arthur, he put you and my mother in danger _ .

“We don’t have a choice.”

 

Mr Kilgharrah’s number, though he’d deleted, was still ingrained in his mind.  It rang once, twice, and then it was picked up.  _ A good start. _  “Hello?”  No answer.   _ Maybe not a good start. _  “Mr Kilgharrah?  Are you there?” He bit his lip, “ _ Please _ , I need your help!”

“You told me I would not hear from you again,” came Kilgharrah’s hoarse voice, and Merlin didn’t think he’d been more grateful to hear it in his entire life.

“I’m not here for myself,” he said, forcing his voice to stay cold, even as he realised that he’d missed the man who had helped teach him, even after he’d betrayed him.  “I’m here for Arthur.”

“Arthur’s path lies with yours, and you have shown that you do not walk in step with me.”

_ Because I wouldn’t let my mother or my uncle die?   _ “You don’t want Cornelius Sigan to win.  You’re not evil.” He was sure of that. However… morally dubious his neighbour was, it wasn’t evil that lurked in his heart.

“At least Sigan knows where his loyalties lie,” he hissed.

So did Merlin - his loyalties lay with Arthur.  They always had, even when he’d hated the prat, and that was there they would remain.  “You would let Camelot and Britain fall?”

“I didn’t say that,” Kilgharrah said, something in his voice setting off warning bells in the back of Merlin’s brain.  He ignored them ( _ for now _ ).

“Then you will help me?”

“To defeat Sigan, you will need a spell more powerful than anything  _ you  _ know.”

“I have to try.”

“Very well.  But I require something in return.”

And  _ that _ , Merlin reckoned, was probably what had been in Kilgharrah’s voice and set off the warnings.  “What?”

“All will be revealed in time, young Warlock.”

“I’m not agreeing without knowing what it is I’m saying yes to,” he said incredulously.  Did Kilgharrah think he was an idiot?

“That is not yet your concern.”

“I don’t trust you!”  If Kilgharrah wouldn’t tell him, it meant he wasn’t going to like it.

“Nevertheless, you must promise, or else your country will fall.”

Merlin gritted his teeth, silently cursing the Great Dragon and the freak of destiny that had driven him to him.  “I promise. Now, please, give me the spell.”

“Close your eyes and open your mind.”

 

He didn’t know how Kilgharrah gave him the spell from so far away, but he felt the moment settled.  It was a rush of warmth, almost burning, and the sheer power made him wobble, step backwards.

“Few men,” Kilgharrah said, “have been gifted such knowledge.  Use it wisely.”

“I will,” he murmured, still awed.

“Come to me this evening, Merlin, and I will tell you what I have promised.”

 

Arthur stood alone against the creatures.  Uther had ordered that they seal themselves in Camelot, but he couldn’t abandon his people, his agents.  Now, when they were swarming thick and fast, he’d ordered his men to save themselves. He could hear Uther’s yells, insisting that they help his son, faint against the blood rushing around his body, the roar of the creatures and the crashes of the walls against attack.

A particularly vicious swipe knocked his feet from under him - he landed hard on the ground.  His vision swam as he fought to replace the breath in his body. He couldn’t make his limbs move.  This was it. Finally, after everything, this was really it.

 

Merlin sucked in a shaking breath as he saw Arthur on the ground.  “Astrice!” The creatures were dispersed from Arthur’s prone figure and he ran over, kneeling by his side.  He pressed shivering fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse - it was there, fluttering weakly under his skin, and with a relieved sigh Merlin realised that his eyes were slowly opening.  He traced a gentle line down his cheek, thankful to everything that Arthur was alive, that his blue eyes were watching him, his pink lips spreading into a feeble smile.

 

“Who would’ve believed it?”

Merlin’s head shot around so quickly that the world seemed to wobble and spin.  Cedric… Sigan was stood behind him, looking down his nose at them.

“ _ You’re  _ a sorcerer.  And a powerful one, too.”

He spared Arthur one last look over before standing, raising himself to his full height and glaring at Sigan in Cedric’s body, “I won’t let you hurt him.”  He flexed and clenched his hand by his side.

“And you’re going to stop me?”

Merlin nodded firmly.  He had Kilgharrah’s spell under his belt, and whilst he might not trust the man, he doubted that he would betray him now, not when he wanted a favour.

“He doesn’t deserve your loyalty,” Cedric spat, glaring at Arthur.  Merlin felt the urge to move, to shield him from that hateful look. “You’re little more than a slave under him and his father.”

“That’s not true.”

“He stood by and did nothing as his father cast you into jail without a second thought.”

Merlin shrugged, “What could he have done?”  He’d never ask Arthur to choose between him and Uther.  And besides, it’d only have ended in Arthur being chucked in there with him.

Sigan looked quizzically at him, as if he didn’t believe him, and carried on “But it must hurt so much to be so overlooked, so put upon, when all the while you have all this power.”

He swallowed.  Yes, it hurt to know he had to keep himself secret for fear of death (or worse, interrogation), but he was well used to it by now.  Arthur knew, anyway, and that was what mattered. “That is the way it has to be,” he said shortly, conscious of the flash of triumph in Sigan’s cold, borrowed eyes - clearly he thought he was winning.

 

Sigan was sure he was winning.  “Does it?” he asked, hiding a smirk.  “You’re young, Merlin. Look inside yourself.  You’ve yet to discover your true power. I can help you.”  He watched carefully for a change in Merlin’s demeanour, something to let him know he was on the right track, “Think Merlin.  To have the world appreciate your greatness. To have Arthur know you for what you are.”

Merlin decided against telling Sigan that Arthur already knew.  There was a reason they were keeping that information to themselves.  Plus, it was better to let Sigan use a bargaining chip that had no hope of convincing him.  “That is not my destiny,” he said finally. “My purpose is to aid Arthur on his own journey to greatness, whether the world knows me or not.  And as it is now, the world must not know me.”

 

_ Arthur heard all from where he lay, sickened by his inability to defend Merlin.  He settled for wondering what on earth he’d done to warrant such loyalty. _

 

“It could know you,” Sigan said quickly, almost excitedly, “if you joined me.  Together we could rule over this land. Arthur would tremble at your voice, kneel at your feet.”

Merlin recoiled at the thought, stepping closer to Arthur, further away from Sigan, “I don’t want that.”

“You’d rather be a servant?” Sigan asked incredulously, unable to understand his loyalty.

“Better to serve beside a good man than to rule with an evil one,” he said, his voice shivering as Sigan’s face morphed into one of pure anger.

“So be it,” Sigan spat.  “If you will not join me, I will become you and your power will be harnessed to my will.”

 

Merlin heaved in a terrified breath as the blue spirit of Cornelius Sigan left the shell of Cedric and came towards him, “Ic þín sáwol hér beléac, abide þæt ic þé álíese!”

Clutching the jewel heart so hard that his knuckles turned white, he fought of Sigan.  There was a pain in his head worse than anything he’d ever felt before. His vision was doubling - if he’d had a mirror he’d have seen his eyes turn the wrong colour.  Breathing laboured, chest burning, he found there was barely enough space left in his head for thought. Sigan’s presence was too big, too loud, too much. 

It was too much.

 

Arthur’s head ceased spinning and he dragged himself up, swaying slightly on the spot.  “Merlin?” He looked into the cloud of dust and magic encompassing the warlock, searching for him, praying to religions old and new that the Merlin to emerge would be his, untouched by Sigan’s vile soul.  The air cleared and he looked into Merlin’s blank eyes, his stomach dropping.

But then he smiled, laughing slightly hysterically, holding up the blue-again heart, and Arthur let out a breath of relief, laughing along.  He laughed again at Merlin’s muffled shocked sound as he kissed him, and then again as Merlin warned him breathlessly not to knock the heart out of his hands (“Do you want to deal with that again?), and once more for good measure, because they were safe (God, they were safe, Merlin had made it safe) and he could hardly believe it.

 

Gaius hurried into the centre of Camelot’s grounds, searching for his nephew amongst the debris.  The gargoyles were destroyed; he hoped beyond hope that that meant Merlin had succeeded.

“Merlin?”

And there was his nephew, pulling away from Arthur with their gazes locked so surely together that they had missed his approach, and Gaius felt he might know now why Cedric’s presence had grated on Merlin’s nerves, even before his more evil tendencies were revealed.

Merlin himself leapt around at his uncle’s voice, his expression that of a deer in headlights, “I-  I…” Apparently, he didn’t know what to say; his uncle must know that Arthur had seen the magic, seeing how he was conscious, and he probably saw the kissing. 

“I know about the magic, Gaius,” Arthur leapt in, “and rest assured I will keep it secret.”

Gaius nodded solemnly and then smiled, “Well done my boy.”  He wrapped him in a hug and vowed to ask about Arthur later.

 

As Uther frothed and paced in his office, vowing to the shadows that he would renew his efforts in fighting sorcery (“I’ve grown complacent.”), Merlin was enduring a check-up in the medical room.

“Since when has Arthur known?” Gaius asked as he inspected a large bruise on Merlin’s arm.

His nephew looked down, ashamed, perhaps, that he hadn’t told him, “Ealdor.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to share?” he asked lightly, watching Merlin’s face for the light blush he knew would appear as he hesitated before shaking his head  _ no _ .  Gaius shrugged inwardly - perhaps it was a one-off thing, born of adrenaline, though his instincts told him that was rather unlikely and, if it wasn’t, Merlin would no doubt come to him when ready.

 

There was a knock on the door and in came Arthur, “I’m here to see Merlin,” he announced, a light blush on his face.  Gaius resisted chuckling - if they thought they were subtle, they were sadly mistaken. “As we all know my father will never admit he was wrong,” Arthur continued, “I’ll do it for him.”  He cleared his throat, “Despite your insolence, your general incompetence, and the fact you used ‘clotpole’ as an insult, it has to be said that there was truth in your accusations.”

Merlin smirked, “So we’re all admitting that on this occasion I was actually right?”

“Don’t get used to it,” Arthur warned him as he left, Merlin’s chuckle chasing him down the corridor and putting a grin on his face.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at his nephew, “Clotpole?”

Merlin sniggered, and Gaius couldn’t help but join in.


	3. Chapter 2 - Operation Le Fay

Morgana stirred restlessly in her sleep, hands clutching as if she was trying to hold onto the fleeting images that chased each other through her troubled mind.  She’d not had a peaceful night since she’d collapsed and dreamed of the raven. Gwen had offered to stay with her, but she’d said no - the last thing she wanted was to keep her friend from her sleep, too (especially when, more and more often, Gwen’s “sleep” involved Lancelot, too).

It was the smell of burning that woke her.

She screamed, shot upright, vases smashing as she fought to control her breathing.  The thick curtains were smoking at the edges - she tossed the glass of water from her bedside table at it and sat on the edge of her bed, pale and shaking and fighting to keep her breathing even.  She picked up the phone and dialled the number before she even registered what she was doing.

“Gwen,” she whispered hoarsely, “help me.”

 

It took a lot to convince Gwen to let her into work the next morning, but Morgana managed it.  But she didn’t go to her office, no. She marched into the technician’s office and, after Merlin took one look at her stricken face, marched out with the one she needed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared, Merlin, I don’t understand anything anymore.”  Her breaths were ragged as she fought for control, “I need to know what’s happening, please.”

He looked around for prying eyes, before taking her into the medical room, “What happened, Morgana?”

“It was magic.  Merlin, I have magic.  I smashed my vase, I nearly set the curtains on fire and my dreams… I dream the future, Merlin, you’ve seen it…”  She looked helplessly at him, “Please, I need to hear someone else say it, too.”

He nodded.  “I’ll help you.  If it’s magic… I’ll  help you.”

“You… you will?”

Merlin offered her a smile, “I’ll help you.  Come see me later, we’ll sort something out.”

Morgana smiled gratefully, “Thank you.  Thank you.”

She left, smiling.

 

And Gaius entered, frowning.

 

“ _ Merlin _ .”

“I had to, Gaius,” he said firmly, not meeting his uncle’s stern gaze.  “I told you that I wouldn’t lie to her, and she figured it out.”

“This is  _ Camelot _ ,” Gaius hissed.  “Do you realise how much danger you’re in?  How much danger you’ve placed Morgana in?”

“Far less danger than she’d be in if she was unable to control her power!”  Merlin took in a breath, trying to cool his temper. “I know what she’s going through.  The years before I knew you, Gaius, they were the loneliest in my life. And Morgana, she doesn’t have  _ anyone  _ like you, who understands what she’s going from.  She needs help.”

“I have always done my best for her,” Gaius insisted, sounding hurt.

“You’ve kept her sleeping - it’s not the same.”  Merlin looked away so he wouldn’t have to see the injured look on Gaius’ face.

“What makes you so certain that you know better than me?”

“Because I went through the same thing.  You were raised when magic was practised freely - we weren’t.  I understand her fear.”

Gaius shook his head.  “No good will come of this,” he predicted - promised, even - before leaving the way he’d come.  Merlin groaned loudly, running a hand over his face, before following, careful not to meet his uncle’s eyes as he sat back down to work.

 

It was hard, Merlin discovered, to focus whilst his mind repeated his argument with Gaius over and over again.  It was rare that they fought and rarer still that it was so serious as this, and near unheard of that Merlin was actually right.  (And he was right, this time.) He sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as the cursor on his screen blinked and blinked and blinked.

 

*

 

_ Morgana, gifting Arthur a bracelet that would leach the life from him as he undertook one of the most dangerous quests of his life. _

*

_ Morgana sneaking up the stairs to Uther’s chambers clutching an ornate dagger encrusted with jewels that glinted in the flickering light of the torches. _

*

_ Morgana, plunging a blade into a blonde’s chest - her sister’s chest - and unleashing the souls of the dead. _

*

_ Morgana, fading fast, left on the forest floor because Merlin had been forced to kill her. _

 

*

 

“No,” Merlin whispered.

Where the visions had come from, he didn’t know - the same place where images of another him in another Camelot came from, no doubt - but he wouldn’t let them come true.  Not again. ( _ Again? _ )  Even if he didn’t know if they’d ever really happened - if they ever  _ could  _ happen…  He’d never let Morgana become so bitter, so twisted, that she became the woman he’d seen.

 

_To:_ _Morgana_

_ Can I come to yours tonight? _ __   
_ We’ll start what we discussed _ _   
_ __ earlier.

 

No, Morgana wouldn’t be so alone.

 

_To:_ _Merlin_

_ Sure. _

 

_To:_ _Morgana_

_ You should tell Arthur. _ __   
_ He’ll be fine with it, I’m _ _   
_ __ sure of it.

 

_To:_ _Merlin_

_ I’ll consider it. _

 

“Merlin?”

Merlin looked up from his phone, knowing from the way Arthur chuckled that his expression was about as guilty as it could be.  “Yes?”

“Are you slacking?” Arthur asked, smirking.  “Should I tell Gaius?” Something in Merlin’s face must have changed, become bitter - or maybe sad - because Arthur looked concerned and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?  You could come over later?”

“Can’t,” he said, “I’ve got plans already.”

“What?”  It was a bit insulting how surprised Arthur was.  Merlin was  _ actually  _ pretty sociable - it wasn’t  _ his  _ fault that most of his time was monopolised by work, Arthur, and saving the day from magical creatures/sorcerers of varying power levels.

“I promised to help Morgana with something.”

“ _ Morgana _ outranks me?”

Merlin snorted at the offended look on Arthur’s face, “Of course she does.  I like her more.” Arthur pulled a face and Merlin smirked, “I suppose I could come around after if I  _ have  _ to.”

And Arthur was definitely going to deny the way he’d perked up later on.

 

“What do you need Merlin’s help for?”

“Jealous?”  Morgana nearly laughed as she looked at her brother, whose face screamed  _ yes _ whilst his mouth insisted  _ no _ .

“I just wondered what he, incompetent as he is, could do better than me,” Arthur sniffed.

“He didn’t tell you?”  Though she teased, she had wondered for a moment whether Merlin had told Arthur already (they  _ were  _ practically joined at the hips) and whether this was Arthur’s roundabout way of getting her to confess to having magic, but she dismissed the idea almost as soon as it appeared.  Merlin wouldn’t do that to her, she was certain of it. Arthur was scowling slightly, but she was thinking. Merlin had told her that she could trust Arthur (come to think of it, he’d probably trusted Arthur by this point), and she trusted his judgement.  But if he was wrong, and Arthur told Uther… She gritted her teeth and decided to bite the bullet and pray it didn’t blow up in her face. “I have magic,” she blurted out, keeping her voice low, “and Merlin’s picked up some knowledge in the years he’s worked for Gaius.  He’s helping me.” Lifting her head high and straightening her back, she dared Arthur to accuse her of evil.

Instead, he nodded.  “I’m glad,” he told her.  “Both that you have help, and that you were able to tell me.”  He cleared his throat, “I won’t breathe a word to Uther, don’t worry.”

Morgana nodded, before sending him on his way with a flea in his ear for disturbing her.

 

“Ok,” Merlin grinned, flashing his teeth at Morgana as she glanced up from the book she was studying.  “D’you reckon you’re ready to have a go?”

“Are you sure this is a good spell to start with?” she asked doubtfully.

“From the sounds of things you’ve got a natural talent for flames,” he said blithely, having heard the tale of the smoking curtains, “and I can always put it out if something goes wrong.  Don’t worry. Just relax.”

“Ok.”  She breathed in deeply, “Just relax.  Ok.” She held out her hand, palm up, “Forbærne”

 

“Shit!” Merlin yelled.  “Scildan!” He let out a shaky breath as his shield absorbed Morgana’s errant fireball, her over-enthusiastic magic having been a tad more… out of control than he’d hoped.

“Oh God, Merlin!”  Morgana stared, wide-eyed, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said, smiling weakly, “it’s powerful magic you’ve got.  Maybe… maybe we should work on some focusing exercises, first. My mum used to do them with me when I was young, and I think I can still remember-”

“No!”  Morgana shook her head almost violently, “No.  I’m not going to risk hurting you again, Merlin.  You can’t keep teaching me. It’s too dangerous.”

“But-”

“No, Merlin.”

_ Morgana dying on the forest floor-   _ “I’m not letting you deal with this alone,” he told her.  “I’ll help some other way. I’ll find someone who can help you.  Just… just give me some time.”

 

“Do we know any druids, Arthur?” Merlin asked, looking up from the book detailing sacred druidic places that he’d been searching through for the last half hour.  Arthur flashed him a look that said  _ we work for  _ Camelot _ , Merlin _ and he stuck out his tongue.  “How was I to know? You might have made contacts when you dropped Mordred home.”

“No, Merlin,” he sighed, “we don’t know any druids.”

“Right.”  He went back to the book as Arthur picked up the files he’d… borrowed from Camelot.  The theory was that there  _ had  _ to be some sorcerer who could pass them on to the druids, who often helped people like Morgana.

Unfortunately, necessity had taught them to be secretive, hard-to-find, and near impossible for Merlin and Arthur to link someone to.  (They should probably be glad for that, else Morgana would probably be caught when she went to them.)

 

Arthur yanked on Merlin’s sleeve, “Here.”

“Hm?”

“Found one,” he pointed at a file, “Forridel.  Ex-druid.”

Merlin grinned, “You know where to find her?”

“Not yet.”  He frowned, “But from the looks of it Uther will let me know fairly soon.”

“Oh.”

 

“Move,” a woman hissed after they’d knocked on her door, pressing a kitchen knife to Merlin’s back, “and I kill you.  Both of you.”

Merlin swallowed noisily and Arthur’s eyes widened.

“Forridel?” he clarified.

“Who are you?”

“Merlin Myrddin and Arthur Pendragon.  But there’s no time.”

“What?”

Merlin shifted slightly, the point of the knife a nerve-wracking presence between his shoulder-blades.  “Uther sent Arthur here to bring you into custody. We have to get you out of here.”

“Why should I trust you,” she spat, glaring at Arthur like he was the devil incarnate - like he was Uther, rather than his son.

“You shouldn’t,” he admitted.  “If I’d been given this mission a while ago I’d likely have gone through with it.  But,” he added hastily, seeing the look on Merlin’s face, “I give you my word that you will not be harmed.”

Forridel looked between them, evaluating her position.  After a few agonisingly long seconds she grunted her agreement and removed the knife from Merlin.  “Thank you,” she said, “you took a grave risk in coming here.” She turned to re-enter her house, no doubt to pack for her escape.

“Wait!”  She paused and looked at Merlin as he yelped.  “We need your help. We’re looking for a way to contact the druids.”

“Don’t know anything about them.”

“You don’t need to lie to us,” he said, trying to be soothing.

“I’m not.”

“Please, if it wasn’t for us you’d be caught as soon as Uther realised Arthur hadn’t arrested you.  You know we’re not his allies - we’re friends of the druids. We need their help.”

She cocked her head and stared at him.  “What do you need to know?”

 

_To:_ _Morgana_

_ Go to the location attached. _ __   
_ The people who can help you _ _   
_ __ are there.

 

“Morgana asked me to inform you that her most recent assignment requires her to go off-radar for a while,” Arthur told Uther, looking him dead in the eye as he lied to him.  A flicker of guilt at lying to his father flared in his stomach, though both he and Merlin had spent a good twenty minutes reassuring each other that they were right in going against their guardians.  “She assures you that she’ll be safe. Whatever training she has, it apparently covers it.”

Uther smirked slightly - he knew that, when he’d been a little bit younger (and, let’s face it, probably even now he was older, though he hid it better), Arthur had been pretty displeased that he didn’t have clearance to know what Morgana’s training involved.  “I’m sure it does,” he agreed, before sending his son away to get on with his  _ own  _ work, with a warning that his report better be an improvement from the last pitiful attempt (which he suspected Myrddin the younger might have been roped in to help with).

 

Morgana placed a hand on her gun.  She could have sworn she’d heard something.  Then again, there was a wind blowing through the woods she was walking through; it could just have been the breeze rustling through the trees.

She was a few hours from Camelot - the journey to the woods had been spent on an uncomfortably hard train seat (paid for in cash) - and horribly aware of the fact that, if something went wrong, she’d have to rely on Arthur and Merlin to rescue her.  Not that she didn’t trust them to rescue her if need be.

(But she’d heard that druids who felt threatened were fierce warriors.)

(And that they held a grudge against Pendragons.)

She jumped - this time she really had heard something.  She pulled her gun from the holster and cocked it, forcing her breathing to steady.

“Who’s there?”

A giant scorpion lumbered out of the clearing and she screamed.  Loudly. Firing several ringing shots at the grotesque creature did nothing to halt it.  She ran. And ran.

And tripped.

Her breath came in short, terrified gasps.  The scorpion tail plunged into the flesh of her thigh.

The world turned black, and she knew nothing more.

 

A cool cloth on her forehead.  A whisper to someone nearby. A bandage being wrapped around her leg.

Morgana woke with a choked off yell.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” a man said to her, “you’ve hurt your leg.  Try not to move it.”

“What…”  She swallowed; her mouth and throat felt dry.  “What happened?”

“You were stung by a sekret.”  A sekret - she didn’t know what that was, but her leg gave a painful throb as if it remembered.  “I came to help,” the man went on, checking over her as she hissed in quiet pain. “My name’s Aglain.  Relax, Morgana. You’re safe now.”

Through the haze of pain, her own name sliced through like a knife.  “How do you know my name?” Yes, it was possible that Merlin had provided a description, but years working for Camelot had taught her painful lessons for assuming the best scenario.  No one should know her name until she gave it.

She wondered absently whether she could reach the dagger concealed in her boot before anyone noticed her movement.

Aglaine seemed to notice her train of thought; he beckoned someone forwards and Morgana heard a voice.

_ Because I told them. _

She twisted around, searching for the source, and laid eyes on a familiar dark-haired, plump-cheeked boy, “You.”

“When the sekrets struck,” Aglaine explained, “Mordred was able to sense your distress.”

_ Hello, Morgana. _

Morgana gasped before she was able to collect herself.  The boy had spoken - she’d heard his voice clear as day - and yet his mouth hadn’t moved.

“Did you hear that?” she demanded, not daring to move her eyes from Mordred.  “How did he do that?”

“We don’t always need words to communicate,” Aglaine said; Morgana could hear the smile in his face.

“Now,” Mordred said, aloud this time, as if he wanted to stop her discomfort, “I can look after you as you looked after me.”

She smiled at him as he beamed.

 

“Sir?”  Uther and Arthur looked around at the door.  A low-level worker Arthur had never learned the name of was standing there, looking nervous and with his earpiece knocked askew in his haste.

“Yes?”  Uther tapped his fingers once, twice on the desk.  He and Arthur had been discussing the latest mission of Agent Leon, which had resulted in the man only narrowly escaping with his life.  The idea of a leak had been dismissed, but it was still important that they work out exactly what had gone wrong, and they couldn’t do that with others in the room.

The man cleared his throat, hastily removing his earpiece as if he’d only just remembered it.  “We’ve… we’ve had reports of a druid encampment, sir. In the forest.”

“Have they been using magic?” Arthur broke in, wondering whether he could convince his father that, if they weren’t using magic, they weren’t a danger.  It was a hopeless thought, he knew, but it was always worth an attempt. Morgana was with them, and if she was caught with them it wouldn’t matter that Uther had adopted her; she’d be interrogated.

“They were seen using it to hunt.  And some healing.”

Arthur nodded silently as his father looked at him.  “You will take some men and rid the forest of the druid problem once and for all.”

“But, sir…”  He took a deep breath.  This was dangerous, he knew.  But he had to do it. “I don’t see why we should.  They’ve done no harm, kept themselves to themselves.  They’ve made no attempt to harm anyone.” He swallowed - Uther was looking at him like he’d never seen him before.  “Operation Purge was shelved years ago,” he pushed on, “sorcerers who haven’t harmed anyone should be allowed to live in peace.”

Uther’s face was an alarming colour, and Arthur suddenly felt he should have sent the nameless man away.  He didn’t relish the idea of being scolded in front of him like a disobedient child. “Magic,” Uther growled, “is a plague on our society.  Whatever a person does with it, you can never trust them; their next move will always be to target us.”

_ Because you targeted them first. _

“Whatever the public thinks of Operation Purge,” Uther continued, speaking as if they were alone (Arthur hoped he hadn’t put the man watching them in danger), “you conduct yourself as if it was in place.  All magic is a danger to the general populace, therefore all magic-users caught practising will be brought into Camelot for interrogation, so we can learn of their plans and other sorcerers. Is that understood?”

Arthur nodded silently, dread pooling in his stomach and make him nauseous.  Ignoring it, as he was well used to doing, he looked at the man he almost unjustly hated for bringing the report, “Have you seen Merlin?”

“Merlin, sir?  I think he’s with Gaius.  Looking through a captured sorcerer’s browser history.”

“Tell him to meet me in the armoury.  Immediately.”

 

Merlin didn’t even have time to ask what Arthur wanted before he was caught by the arm and dragged out of sight of the door.

“Arthur, what-?”

“Uther’s found the druid camp,” he murmured urgently, voice so low Merlin had to strain his ears to hear him.  He blanched and Arthur continued, “You have to get there first. Warn them.”

“Why me?” Merlin hissed, heart leaping to his throat.

“I can’t go, can I?  I’m expected to lead the attack.  People will look for me. You,” he paused, thinking, “you just tell Gaius to say that your holed up in your little handling room.  No one will miss you.”

Grimacing, Merlin steeled his nerves and nodded.  Arthur smiled wanly, patted him on his shoulder, and went to summon his men.

 

It was getting dark now.  Merlin always hated that, being alone in a scary forest in the dark, knowing he couldn’t stop for the night lest Arthur and his men beat him to the druids and have to capture or kill them.  “Forbearnen,” he whispered under his breath, smiling slightly as the heat and glow of the fire in his palm spread into the air. Stopping for a brief moment to grab the apple Gaius had forced on him from his backpack and looking up at the stars, with the heat bringing back the feeling in his fingers, he did feel a bit braver.

_ Morgana?  Morgana? You awake? _

Merlin jolted, less than brave again.  “Hello?”

_ What would you like to know? _

Telepathy.  Merlin shoved the core in his bag and set off at a run - he was close.

 

Lungs burning, legs aching, Merlin burst into the camp and sprinted to Morgana’s tent - it was the only one without a stream of people, no doubt letting the injured woman rest.

“Merlin?”

“You have to get out of here,” he panted; there was no time for greetings.

“What?”

“All of you, you have to run.”

“But,” she looked at him, trying to glean what information she could from his panicked expression and wild eyes, “you’re the one who brought me here.”

“Arthur and the agents are on the way - Uther’s orders.  You have to get out. They…” he swallowed, “he said to take no prisoners.”  Morgana’s breath caught in her throat, hand leaping to clutch at it, and Merlin felt a sharp spike of sympathy.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I put you in danger. But we have to go.”

“I can’t leave my -  _ our _ \- people,” Morgana said, voice hard and slightly outraged.  Merlin steeled himself for whatever accusation was coming next.  “You know what it’s like to be alone, Merlin. How can you ask that of me?”

That was fairly mild, considering, and Merlin didn’t even falter before shooting back: “You don’t  _ have _ to leave them!”  His phone vibrated in his pocket -  _ Arthur _ .  “They're on their way, Arthur’s been trying to stall but he can’t anymore.  You have to leave before you’re slaughtered or interrogated!”

Morgana hesitated and then looked furtively to the door, “Ok.  Help me wake them.”

 

Merlin charged through the camp, yelling at the top his lungs in a magically altered voice to run.  He sent Morgana with them, towards the forest, and sent up a great purple flare to distract the Camelot agents.  It wouldn’t hurt them - he wouldn’t hurt them - but it was intimidating enough that no one would dare pass through it.

When the druids were all out of the tents he let it drop, running to the forest as well, lest his face be seen.

 

The agents were as ruthless as they were trained to be.  They demolished tents, destroyed possessions. They ran after the druids, guns drawn.  Three converged on Mordred. Merlin raised a hand to help and then, guiltily, hesitated.

It didn’t matter.

Mordred flung up his hands with a yell and the agents flew backwards, landing so awkwardly Merlin could see that their necks were broken.  Mordred hardly paused to look at them before he fled again.

Merlin looked away.

His heart leapt to his throat.

Morgana, delirious from the pain in her wounded leg, lost her bearings.  She wandered into the middle of the camp and collapsed. The chasing and fighting screeched to a halt and Arthur ran forward, lifting her as if she was light as cloth.

 

The attack was over.  The agents left. Merlin sagged against a tree trunk and then started the long way home.

 

“The lead was cold,” Morgana said weakly as she lay in a medical bed, Uther’s hand gently stroking her hair.  “The lead was cold and I ran into some…  _ creature _ when I was there.  I don’t remember much, except trying to run away and seeing Arthur.”

That was her hastily constructed cover story.  Uther nodded sympathetically, “Never mind, my girl.  Rest a while and then start again when you’re ready.”

Morgana nodded weakly.  In her secret heart, she hadn’t worked on her assignment for a long time.  The fruitless search by a paranoid man for a rebel long dead - that wasn’t something worth her time.

Lord Drakon was dead and would wait a while longer.

 

As soon as Uther left her, Morgana pulled out her phone and dialled Merlin’s number.

“‘Lo, Morgana,” came a cheery voice, surrounded by the sound of a whistling wind and the chirps of birds.

“Where are you?” she asked, confusion shoving her original purpose from her mind.

“Taking the long way home so no one catches me,” came the slightly amused answer.  “Won’t be long ‘til I’m home, don’t worry.”

“It’s nearly midnight.”

“I’m not Cinderella.”

Morgana laughed weakly at that, and she could almost see the smug smile Merlin always got when she managed to make people laugh at his - generally  _ awful _ \- jokes.  And then she could imagine the smile dropping, eyes turning sharp, face turning serious.

“Are you alright?  How’s your… you know what?”

“I’m fine.  Gaius had a poultice from one of the books for the poison.  And my… It’s slightly calmer. More controlled.”

“Good, I’m glad.  Do you think… you’d let me help you, now?”

“I…”  She hesitated a moment.  She didn’t want to hurt him, but she didn’t want to leave it untrained, uncontrolled.  “Alright, Merlin. Thank you.”

“Great!”  Merlin would be beaming at the phone now, Morgana knew, and she smiled weakly to him, though he couldn’t see.  “When you’re fully healed, we’ll set up a time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Morgana yawned quietly, sudden fatigue setting in.  Perhaps it was relief. She knew Merlin had heard the moment he said:

“Sorry for keeping you, Morgana.  Get some rest. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

 

Merlin shoved his phone into his back pocket and hesitated at the front door.  He took in a breath and opened it quietly. “Gaius?”

“Merlin!”  Gaius heaved himself up from the kitchen table and came to embrace his returning nephew.  He always worried when he went off on his own missions.

“I’m sorry, Gaius,” Merlin murmured into Gaius’ shoulder.  Gaius only squeezed tighter before letting go and smiling tiredly at him.  Merlin smiled back, sheepish, “I thought you’d still be angry at me.”

“I was,” Gaius admitted, “right to the moment you walked in.  Now… I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

“Morgana knows she has magic and I’m still going to help her,” Merlin said hurriedly.  “I know you don’t think it’s a good idea, but I can’t abandon her. Everything that’s good and right about magic I’ve learnt from you, but she’s never had anyone like you.  I’d be lost without you, Gaius, like she is. I can’t…”

Gaius sighed and shook his head ruefully, “You’re just doing what you think is right.”

“We both are.”

“Just be careful,” Gaius stressed, going to turn on the kettle.  “Uther must never know of her powers - or yours.”

“What about Arthur?” Merlin asked cautiously.

Gaius scoffed loudly, “You expect me to think he doesn’t already know?”

 

Merlin grinned and went to fetch the tea cups.


	4. Chapter 3 - Operation Witchfinder

_ “Look, just, relax.”  Merlin smiled, trying to be reassuring.  “Empty your mind and just… tap into it. Just a little, mind you.” _

_ Morgana nodded, looking nervous.  She took a breath and closed her eyes, palm out.  “Forbaernan.” _

_ They gasped and smiled at the small flame in the palm of her hand. _

*

_ Merlin hushed Morgana, smirking, before pointing to where Arthur had nodded off on the sofa.  They’d all known it would happen - he’d been on a mission but still insisted on coming to see the lesson. _

_ “Go on,” he whispered, smothering a chuckle, “try it out.” _

_ Morgana whispered the spell, hand outstretched.  Arthur gave an undignified yelp and glowered at the two giggling sorcerers as he sat up, soaking wet and freshly woken. _

 

*

 

_ Merlin paced the stone floor of the tower.  He was bored. Beyond bored, in fact, and quite sick of listening to Morgana’s taunts.  He was counting down the minutes before the queen came for her daily visit, which he tried to accept with good grace, even though it was her decision that he be locked up in here in the first place. _

_ “You know, old man,” Morgana said, her voice finally changing from a rant and recapturing Merlin’s interest (and earning her a glare because, really, with only three grey hairs after more than seventy winters on the earth, he hardly deserved to be called old), “it’s a shame you killed me.  I think we could have been friends. Done magic together, perhaps, if you’d deigned to teach me. Or even tell me.” _

_ Merlin ignored the bite in her tone; he was an expert at that, now.  “For what it’s worth, old enemy,” he said, looking over at where she sat weightlessly on the bed, “I’m starting to think it’s rather a shame you’re only in my head.” _

 

*

 

“Now,” Merlin said, grinning toothily at Morgana’s dubious expression, “all you have to do is  _ think _ the word - don’t say it.  It’s more about… intent, than the incantation itself, anyway, so I’m sure it’ll work.”

“Really?”  Morgana’s voice was completely flat and one eyebrow arched high into her hairline - for some reason, everyone Merlin worked with seemed to be an expert on the ‘Eyebrow of Doom’ thing…  Maybe they had classes on it.

“‘Course!  I’m… 98% sure it’ll work.”

“Right.”  Morgana held out a hand and fair  _ glared  _ at it.  (If her spell didn’t work, Merlin thought, a flame would be intimidated into appearing.)

“Try and relax,” he said quietly.  “Magic works better when you ask, rather than demand.”

Some of the tension left Morgana’s shoulders and Merlin smiled again.  She was a fast learner and had more power than anyone else he’d ever met.  A small orange flame licked at the heel of her palm and she tossed it into the wood they’d gathered.  She smirked slightly, pleased with herself.

 

“Now you do something,” she commanded.

“Huh?”

“Show me some magic - something I can’t do, yet.”

Merlin nodded and thought a moment: “Hors, beride þá heofonum”

A galloping horse appeared in the smoke of their fire and tossed its regal head in Morgana’s direction.  Two gasps filled Merlin’s ears - Morgana’s awe and someone’s fear. He dropped the spell and twisted so quickly to look that he swore he had whiplash.  A woman was already charging towards Camelot… towards Uther.

Merlin swore, “Come on, we have to leave.  Quickly.”

Morgana nodded, terror in her eyes, before she grabbed his hand and ran.

 

“-and there was a  _ horse _ , Agent Pendragon!  Right there in the smoke!”

Arthur just about resisted the urge to sigh or swear.  “You’re certain, Hilda?”

“Certain as I am that the sky is blue.”

He nodded at the cleaner, “You may return to work or your break.  I’ll deal with this, don’t you worry.” And indeed he would - by yelling at both his idiotic handler and sister about practising magic in the open.  He  _ knew  _ it was them; shapes in smoke was Merlin’s third favourite spell, behind shapes in the fire and making butterflies.  He set off towards his father’s office. Perhaps he could tell him it was a false alarm before the rumours reached him.

 

“A trick of the light, you say?”

“Yes,” Arthur said confidently.  He hadn’t been able to reach his father before the rumours, but he wasn’t completely unskilled at damage control.  “Morgana was taking a walk around the area, so I asked her to take a look. She didn’t see any evidence of sorcery.”

Uther nodded, his brow furrowed as he thought.  “Be that as it may, it is possible that the sorcerer simply disguised the evidence.  No - I shall send for the Witchfinder.”

“The  _ what _ .”

“I know,” Uther smirked, rolling his eyes, “the title is overdramatic.  But Mr Aredian has great skills in detecting the presence of sorcery; he and I worked very closely during Operation Purge.”

“I see,” Arthur said weakly.  “Do you not think this is a little unnecessary for a shape in smoke?  It's not like the sorcerer was hurting anyone.”

Uther shot him a look like he’d never seen him before.  “Go and rest a little, Arthur. I’ve been working you hard lately.”

Arthur nodded.  The meaning was clear - get out of here and don’t come back until you’ve got that foolish idea  _ well _ out of your mind.

 

Merlin was in the medical room with Gaius, apparently receiving treatment for a twisted ankle he’d received running down a hill.  In truth, he was far more likely to need treatment for the cuff upside the head Gaius had given him when he’d explained what had happened.

“It’ll be alright,” he said quietly, reassuring either himself or Gaius, he wasn’t sure which.  “Arthur won’t let Uther investigate.”

Gaius huffed.  “You better be right.”

 

Arthur, knowing that Merlin  _ always _ took Gaius to the medical room in an emergency (“Me and Gaius are responsible for the cameras there, so there’s no one to notice when I knock them out.”), went there before even thinking to check where they were paid to be.

“It’s not good news,” he announced as they looked over at him.  Gaius sighed and Merlin swore, before ducking out of the way of Gaius’ hand.  “My father’s bringing an outsider in to investigate. A Mr Aredian - the Witchfinder.”

“What?”  Merlin’s breathless yell was worrying - Arthur and Gaius both looked over.  He was pale as a sheet and leaning against a table for support. “The- Arthur, are you sure?  Are you certain? No-” he shook his head violently “-you must have misheard.”

Arthur took a tentative step forward, “Merlin-”

“He can’t come here.”

 

*

 

_ “Boys and girls,” said Mrs Sander, smile slightly strained, “we have a treat today.  A visitor.” _

_ Will leaned closer to Merlin and grinned, “Late to lessons today!” _

_ Merlin smiled back - Will was well known for being willing to do almost anything to get out of fractions.  It’d had only got worse since they’d gone into year 5; he’d taken up choir, extra recorder lessons, and gardening to try and escape. _

_ Mrs Sander clapped a short pattern, attempting to reclaim the assembly room’s attention.  “Yes,” she said, and for some strange reason, Merlin thought her voice sounded almost… fragile, “a very special visitor, all the way from the government.  Please welcome Mr Aredian.” _

_ The students clapped dutifully as she retreated to her chair at the side of the room, but something cold had seized at Merlin’s insides.  Nothing and no one in the government meant anything good for him. _

_ Mr Aredian stalked to the front of the room, boots echoing in the quiet of the room, long coat flowing behind him like a cloak.  He smiled at the students when he reached the front, but it was a cruel, crooked thing. “Hello, children,” he said, still smiling that dreadful smile, and Merlin clutched at Will’s arm suddenly certain that whatever that man said was going to be bad.  “My name is Mr Aredian, but some people call me the Witchfinder.” _

*

_ “And you’re certain, Merlin, that you’ve never seen any magic in your estate?” _

_ Merlin nodded, having long ago begun silently crying.  His eyes stung and his swiped at his nose, “I’ve never seen anything, sir.”  He hated lying, he hated denying his own existence, but he was only nine, and he hated the idea of being taken away from his mother even more.  “I’ve never seen anything!” _

*

_ Merlin stared out of his door as the Witchfinder dragged out a woman by her hair, raving about her sins and crimes. _

_ “She didn’t do anything,” Merlin said, but he was so quiet no one heard.  His mother ran to the door and pulled him inside, cradling his head against her stomach and quietly shushing him.  “But she didn’t do anything, mum,” Merlin murmured, tears trickling down his cheeks, “I know she didn’t.” _

 

*

 

Merlin kept himself braced against the table, a wave of nausea sweeping over him.  “He can’t come here,” he repeated, unable to think of anything else.

Arthur crossed the room in about three steps to be closer; he didn’t touch, though, which Merlin was grateful for.  He wasn’t sure he could cope with a hug now. He grabbed Arthur’s hand and clutched it tight, using it to ground himself as he closed his eyes and counted his breaths.  Arthur squeezed back.

“Have you ever heard of Aredian?” Merlin heard him ask quietly, as if he didn’t want Merlin to hear and worry even more.

“Once or twice,” Gaius said worriedly.  Whatever he’d heard obviously didn’t please him.

Arthur nodded.  He didn’t ask what Gaius had heard.  He didn’t need to. “You alright, Merlin?”

Merlin wasn’t, but he nodded anyway.  He knew Arthur needed to leave, and he didn’t want to make him feel guilty.  Perhaps Arthur sensed that, because he hesitated a moment before letting go of him with an apologetic smile and leaving, nodding to Gaius as he went.

 

It was an hour before Aredian arrived, and the moment Uther summoned Arthur to come and meet him at the gates he hurried to the large window overlooking them with Gwen.  The pair of them smiled grimly at each other and then gently took their respective charge - an alarmingly pale Merlin and a nauseous looking Morgana - by the shoulders and leading them away.

_ Aredian looked up to the window, smirking to himself _ .

 

Arthur went to Uther’s office, rather than the gates, and announced himself with a straight face and: “I’m sorry I’m late, father, but there was something I had to take care of.”  He forced himself to maintain the face as he offered Aredian his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

Aredian shook his hand, smirking slightly, “Ah yes, how is Miss Morgana.  She seemed rather upset. As did the boy.”

“They’re fine,” Arthur said, slightly sharper than he meant to be.  “Just concerned by the idea that there could be sorcery discovered so close to Camelot.”

“Of course,” Aredian said smoothly.  “It’s only natural.”

Uther nodded.  “Now, Mr Aredian, are you ready to get to work?”

“Yes, sir.  All I need is a room to be put aside for… questioning.”

“Of course.  Arthur, find Mr Aredian a suitable room.”  He waved a hand in dismissal and Arthur lead him away.

 

Aredian stalked the halls of Camelot like a great cat, looking each person over with his cold gaze.  Merlin spent a good deal of time trying to keep out of his way and managed it until he and Gaius were leaving for the day.

The Witchfinder walked towards them, smiling, and paused in front of them.  Merlin took an unconscious step towards his uncle, stuck in mute terror. Gaius looked Aredian straight in the eyes, “May we help you?”

“Ah, Gaius, yes?  Yes, I thought so, and this must be Merlin.  As a matter of a fact, you can help me. Merlin, would you join me for a while?  I’ll be sure to make certain you get a taxi afterwards.”

Merlin looked at Gaius, eyes wide, before swallowing hard, “Of course, sir.”

“I’ll be in the computer room when you’re finished,” Gaius said, squeezing his shoulder before he left.  Merlin smiled gratefully after him, before setting off after Aredian.

 

“So, Merlin.  You’re aware that magic has been practised close to Camelot?”  Aredian looked Merlin over, playing with a black fountain pen. “That it caused a woman to fear for her life?”  

“Yes.”  Merlin swallowed, “I mean… apparently.”  

“No, no, it can’t be denied.  There are witnesses.”

“W- witnesses?”

Aredian smiled a silky smooth smile.  “Were you aware that you had been named as a witness?  As well as Miss Morgana Pendragon?”

Merlin’s heart lurched.  “But…” 

“She was very clear on the matter.”  

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t a witness.”  

Aredian looked at him in askance, “So you weren’t there?”  

_ Fuck _ .  Merlin was in trouble.  He tried to breathe. “No, I- I was there.”

“So you saw the horse conjured by magic.”  Aredian was making notes on a pad of lined paper, clear handwriting with clearer bullet points.  Merlin could have probably read it upside down if he wanted, but he didn’t want to.

_ Breathe.  Concentrate.  Don’t panic.  _ “No.”  He forced his voice to stay steady, “I saw smoke.  I just saw smoke. Nothing else.”

“So she lies?”  

“I never said that.”  Gods, if the poor woman got in trouble for lying...  “I just said that I didn’t see what she saw.”

“Well,” Aredian put down the pen and crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m at a loss to explain it.  Unless you were the one who conjured it.”

“No,” Merlin lied confidently - he’d told this lie a million times before.  “I wasn’t.”

“Hmm… or perhaps you’re covering for Miss Pendragon.” 

Merlin couldn’t disguise the way his eyes widened, or how his pulse began to race.  He could almost see the glee in Aredian’s heart as he battled to compose himself. “No, it wasn’t her.” 

Aredian smiled slyly, knowing he’d hit on a weakness, “Can you prove it?”

“She’s an agent of Camelot,” Merlin insisted.  “It wasn’t Morgana.” 

“So no, you can’t.”

He sighed.  “No.”

“That’ll be all.”  

Merlin stood and left.  He heard Aredian mutter under his breath and didn’t turn back.

 

Strangely enough, he felt completely calm as he walked to the computer room, and was unsurprised to see that Gaius had summoned the Pendragon siblings to an impromptu meeting.

“Whatever happens,” he said in greeting, “you mustn’t interfere.”

“What?”  Arthur frowned, “What happened?”

Merlin smiled, a parody of serenity.  “He’s got a look in his eye. He’s picked who he’s going after and he can’t be dissuaded unless he finds someone else.”  He carefully didn’t mention his own name, but the others weren’t stupid.

“Merlin…”

Morgana interrupted Gaius’ soft plea with a command: “Merlin,  _ no _ .  I won’t allow you to take the blame for this.”

“It is as it should be.  It was my fault - I won’t let someone else go in my stead.”  He glared at all three of them, a silent warning. “You’ve just got to trust me.”  He was glad Arthur seemed stunned into silence; he’d never be able to convince him.

“Merlin…”  Morgana looked - horrifyingly - close to tears, “I’m so sorry, I never meant…”

“It’s not your fault, Morgana,” he told his student sternly.  “Just be careful whilst I’m gone. Don’t let him twist your words.  He’s dangerous, he’s got his eye on you, and he doesn’t care about little things like guilt or the human sense of morality.”

His little joke fell flat, though he hadn’t really expected anything else.  He sighed, “One of you tell Gwen for me. I don’t want to disappear on her again.”

Morgana nodded, “I’ll go now.”  She hurried out of the room, and Merlin looked after her, slightly guilty.  Her eyes seemed suspiciously shiny, and her voice a little thick. Arthur didn’t move, still looking stunned.  

Gaius looked between them, “I’ll take your case to the car, Merlin.”

Merlin handed it to him with a weak, thankful smile.  And the knowledge that next time Gaius accused him of lacking subtlety, he had some ammunition to fire back.

 

“Alright there, Arthur?”

“You are an  _ idiot _ ,” Arthur snarled, marching forward and grabbing him by the shoulders.  He looked for a moment like he might launch into a lecture before something collapsed and he gathered Merlin into his arms.

“Yeah,” Merlin whispered, burrowing his face into Arthur’s shoulder.  “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m not going to let him hurt you.”

“No?”

“No.”  Arthur gave him an almost vicious squeeze, “I’m going to kill you myself when you’re safe though.”

“Ok.  That’s fair.  Will it be quick?”

“Only because I like you so much.”  Arthur let him go and stared at him earnestly, “I mean it, though.  Aredian won’t… It won’t happen.”

“Ok.”  Merlin smiled like he believed him because Arthur Pendragon was a noble, determined prat and Merlin didn’t want to upset him any more than he already had.

They walked out together, lapsing back into silence.

 

The next day, Merlin was taken out of Gaius’ team to be by Arthur’s side - Arthur didn’t want him out of sight and, though he made a great show of grumbling and fussing, Merlin was secretly rather glad of it.

“How about I do my work, and you sit nearby,” Merlin suggested, knowing that Gaius was probably unimpressed.

Arthur hesitated a moment, looking up from the report his was writing and periodically having Merlin spell check (to give him an excuse to keep him there).  “Would Gaius let me?”

He sounded so nervous that Merlin reached over to squeeze his hand, “If you stay quiet, he probably won’t even notice.”

 

(Gaius did notice, and raised an eyebrow, but Merlin had years worth of practice in ignoring it when he really tried.)

 

Merlin and Arthur sat side by side at the computer - and having a fresh pair of eyes looking over a piece of code was nice - and rose at the same time when Aredian walked in.

“Don’t interfere,” Merlin murmured under his breath.  “That’s the last thing we need.”

 

“Mr Myrddin,” Aredian said in greeting.  “The younger, I mean. Would you come with me?”

“I-”  Merlin swallowed, his nerves starting to fail him at the last moment.  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, took a breath, and then spoke, “Of course, sir.”

“Perhaps Agent Pendragon would be so kind as to accompany us.”

Arthur nodded and the pair followed Aredian as he left the room.

 

Uther was waiting for them in an empty office, with three women.  Aredian swept his arms out in an all-encompassing gesture, “These women, Agent Pendragon, have further evidence in the case of sorcery.  I believe they’ve just completed their statements for your perusal.”

“Thank you,” Arthur told them, taking the paper.  He shot a glance to Merlin who shook his head almost imperceptibly - whatever evidence Aredian had found against him, Merlin hadn’t done it.  Arthur looked over the statements and read allowed for Merlin’s benefit: “Screaming faces in a sink, a goblin in the corridor, and... toads leaping from the mouth of a faceless man.”  Arthur placed the papers on the table. “Interesting. Thanks for these, ladies. You may leave.” He waited for them to close the doors behind them to look at Aredian, “Why is Merlin here?”

“Come now, Agent Pendragon.  You can’t tell me you haven’t realised - the boy is the sorcerer!”

Arthur gave a very convincing contemptuous snort: “Merlin?  Don’t be ridiculous. The boy can hardly tie his own shoes in the morning.”  Merlin gave a small noise of protest but otherwise stood very still. Arthur looked appealingly to his father, “And what evidence do you have of his supposed involvement?”

“Mr Aredian?”

“Magic cannot be hidden from me,” Aredian boasted.  “A quick search of the boy’s desk will provide all the proof we need.”  A promise. Merlin closed his eyes, trying not to vomit on the floor.

“Mr Myrddin?”

Merlin looked as innocently as possible at Uther: “I have nothing to hide, sir.”

 

The arrival of Uther and Aredian together was enough to clear the computer room of workers - the command was hardly necessary.

“I’d prefer to stay,” Gaius said mildly, expertly hiding the anger that burned in his eyes from his oldest friend.

“Of course,” Uther said kindly.  “I know you care for the boy.”

“My nephew.”

Aredian stalked towards the desk.

“It’s that one,” Merlin said, pointing.  “The one with two chairs.” Cooperation was, in his mind, the best plan.

Aredian’s lips curled slightly.  He flung open the desk’s top drawer and disturbed all the sheets of paper (including a half-completed book of children’s word searches), before pulling out a blood red amulet.  Merlin looked at it; it was beautiful, and the way it tried to draw him closer, he was certain it was magical.

Aredian brandished it like a sword, “Gaius, were you aware your nephew kept instruments of sorcery in his drawer?”

“No,” Merlin said sternly, glaring Gaius into silence, “he wasn’t.  Nobody was.”

“But…”  Aredian peered at it, “Are you sure it’s yours?  It looks rather…” Aredian smirked, “feminine.”

Merlin glared.  For some reason, Aredian was determined to have Morgana accused.  But, luckily, that was his shot - his way to place doubt in Uther’s mind as to whether Aredian was telling the truth.  Even if it couldn’t help him, perhaps it would stop Uther from summoning him again, in order to protect his adoptive-daughter.  “I don’t know what vendetta you hold against her,” Merlin said slowly, “but I assure you, again, that Morgana Pendragon had nothing to do with this.  She had no idea.”

Aredian nodded magnanimously, but Uther frowned.  “I vouch for my adopted daughter, Aredian. Take this boy to the interrogation rooms to await us.”

Merlin paled even more than he already had, and it was only a hastily summoned Knight dragging him that kept him upright.

 

Arthur rounded immediately on his father and the Witchfinder as Gaius sat heavily in a chair, looking close to tears.  “Merlin isn’t a sorcerer, father,” he half-snarled. “He’s served with unfailing loyalty, he’s saved my life, and he’s vouched for Morgana even though it was an easy way to deflect suspicion.  You can’t  _ seriously  _ believe this nonsense.”

“Then what of the amulet?”

Arthur rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and, once again, was immensely thankful that Uther thought Merlin a fool of gargantuan proportions.  “I didn’t say he wasn’t an idiot. He probably saw it on the floor one day and thought it was pretty. He’s only taking the blame because he has this strange idea that handlers should be noble and doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“There are ways, sir,” Aredian cut in, “of establishing guilt.”

Arthur glared at him, and Uther frowned.  “He’s a boy, Mr Aredian. I don’t deny that your methods are effective, but he can hardly be expected to withstand such treatment.”

Aredian shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s the only way of ridding the doubt from your mind.”

“Very well,” Uther said.

“Wait,” Arthur said too quickly.  He cleared his throat, “May I see him first, father?  I’ve worked with him for a while now. I’d like to get the truth for myself whilst he’s still in a state to give it.”

Uther nodded.  “You have him tomorrow, Aredian.”

 

“Gaius,” Arthur murmured, placing a hand on the man’s shaking shoulder.  “I’m so sorry. I’ll go talk to him, and we’ll sort it out. Aredian won’t…  He won’t…” He let his voice fade away and squeezed the man’s shoulder. Gaius smiled weakly and placed a hand over Arthur’s.

“Go on,” he said quietly, sounding even older than he was.

Arthur nodded, and then practically sprinted.

 

“Merlin?”

“Arthur!”  Merlin ran to the door and clutched at the bars, “Arthur, I wasn’t sure they’d let you in.”

“Father said I have till tomorrow to get the truth from you for myself,” he said quietly, taking one of Merlin’s hands in his own, out of the view of the camera.  “So the truth - are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said brightly.  Arthur looked at him and the smile cracked: “No.  Arthur, I-” his voice cracked into a half-smothered sob.  “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want this to be how I die.”

“It won’t be,” Arthur assured him.  “We’re going to fix this. Just…”

“Hang tight and give advice?”  Arthur smiled sheepishly and Merlin gave a choked laugh, “Go to my neighbour, Mr Kilgharrah.  He taught me everything I know. If anyone knows what to do, it’s him.” He frowned, “But maybe don’t take Gaius.  They don’t get on very well.”

 

Mr Kilgharrah was less surprised to see a blond-haired stranger at his door than the blond-haired stranger thought he would be.

“Arthur Pendragon, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said.  “How did you-? No, never mind.”

Morgana, having heard the plan, insisted on coming, and on bringing Guinevere and Lancelot.  (Arthur had frowned and grumbled and been secretly pleased.) They introduced themselves quickly and then looked to Arthur to explain.

Mr Kilgharrah started speaking before he did: “Well, well, the young Warlock has more allies than I realised…” He looked over them one by one, before his eyes fell on Morgana, “Even those I advised against.  Still, the witch may stay - if he has sent you I assume that he is in danger.”

Arthur decided not to bring up the witch part until they were done, “Mr Aredian has come - the Witchfinder.  Merlin has been arrested and sent to interrogation.”

“Then he is doomed, and his death shall endanger all those who rely upon him.”  

“What?”

“There must be something we can do,” Morgana said, looking half wild with desperation.  “Merlin said you’d help us.  _ Please _ .”

Mr Kilgharrah sighed, shaking his head with a touch of exasperation tempered with fondness, “I suppose he would.  All he has seen, and yet he still holds huge faith in those around him. But I cannot help you because I don’t know how to.”  

Guinevere scowled, “We can’t just watch him die.”

“I am sorry, young ones.  But,” Kilgharrah allowed himself a brief smile, “have hope.  He is not destined to leave your side quite yet.”

Arthur perked up a little, “So we can save him?”

Kilgharrah smiled gently and waved them out of the door, his eyes and a winding dragon tattoo glowing gold as he shut the door behind them.

 

Merlin breathed raggedly, his back trickling blood down his sides.  He tried to move and only ended up whimpering quietly. He wasn’t sure what time he was.  Had he slept? Had it been night yet? He stretched out as much as he could on the cold, hard floor.

He dreamt of Aredian laughing as he stood before a burning pyre.

 

He didn’t know long it had been before he was rudely awoken, lifted by the scruff of his neck and left to let out a small groan as he was forced into a chair.  He let his head drop down until Aredian gripped him tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises on his pale cheeks.

“You are a traitor!” he yelled.  “An imposter! Sorcery is your only master.”

The words sounded distant to Merlin’s ears, but he tried to refute them, voice hoarse, “I am loyal to Arthur.”

“In what way?  You’ve lied to him, used the magic he and his father fight against, betrayed his trust.”

“No,” he moaned lowly.  “No, no, I’ve saved his life.”

“So you can end it later?”

“No.”  The world seemed a little sharper, a little more in focus.  “I would never… I  _ could  _ never…”  He took a composing breath before he gave something away.  “I would never hurt Arthur.”

Aredian nodded.  “I’ll be back soon, Myrddin.  Perhaps you will reconsider the error of your ways.”

“I’ll never…  I will never… Ask anyone - I’ve not made this mistake.”

“Hm.”  Aredian smirked, “Perhaps I shall.”

 

“Is there any reason for this, Mr Aredian?” Morgana said briskly, shrugging the Witchfinder's hand from her shoulder.  “In case you haven’t realised, I’m a  _ very  _ busy woman.”

“Indeed,” he said, silky smooth.  “But I understand that you are rather close to Mr Myrddin - both of them - and I was wondering if you could give me a little… insight.”

“Gaius has used his experience in the medical field to make me a herbal treatment for my nightmares, and Merlin works closely with my brother.  There is nothing else to say.”

“I thought not.  Well, you’re free to go.”

“Thank you.”  Morgana began to go back to her office - back to Gwen - who was awaiting a text from Arthur.

“Though I do wonder if you only know Merlin as your brother’s handler, why did Hilda say that you were together when she saw the smoke?”

Morgana froze, improvising quickly.  “Is it a crime for me to ask someone how my brother is?”  She shrugged, flipping her hair from one side to the other: “It’s like pulling teeth to get Arthur to tell me how he’s doing.  Merlin’s chatty, though, and always helpful.”

“Ah, I see.  Thank you, Miss Pendragon.”

Morgana nodded and walked away, her high heels echoing through the corridor.

 

“I had an interesting chat with Miss Pendragon,” Aredian said in greeting.

“Oh?”  Merlin maintained as detached a curiosity as he could manage.

“She says you’re not very close.”

“No,” Merlin said, “we’re not.  She just brings me hot chocolate whilst I’m working with Arthur.  She’s not involved in this.”

“As you keep saying.”  Aredian drummed his fingers on his leg, “She says that she was with you when the smoke was changed because she wanted to know how Agent Pendragon is.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said.  He needed to corroborate that story for Morgana’s sake, never mind his own.  “Yeah, she was worried about him.”

“Why?”

Merlin shrugged.  “Didn’t ask. Didn’t seem like my business.”

“No.”  Aredian leaned forward, “I don’t believe imaginary business is your business.  But magic - that is, isn’t it?”

Frowning suspiciously, Merlin tried to focus completely despite the buzzing in his head, “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that you and Miss Pendragon were together because you were corrupting her - teaching her magic.  Perhaps that’s why you and your uncle are so close, or you and Agent Pendragon are.”

“No.”

Aredian shrugged.  “Who will Uther believe?  Me, or you?”

Merlin’s breath hitched and he leaned against the wall.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Sign the confession, Merlin, and maybe I’ll keep everyone else out of the investigation.”

“Maybe isn’t enough,” Merlin snarled.  “Give me your word, and I’ll sign whatever you want.  No one else gets hurt.”

Aredian nodded, smirking, and placed a form and a pen in front of him.  Merlin swallowed hard against the bile burning his throat and signed it in a shaky scrawl.

 

“...therefore, Director Pendragon, I recommend that Mr Myrddin the younger is interrogated until he gives up the details of his magic and his plots.”

“You lie,” Arthur said quietly.

“Excuse me?”  Aredian was overly-polite, but Arthur wasn’t in the mood.

“You lie!” he roared, putting as much hatred into his stare that he could manage.  He didn’t wait to be dismissed before he stormed out of the door.

 

“Merlin!”  Arthur strode into the interrogation room scowling heavily.  “What were you thinking?”

“That if I didn’t he’d carry through on his threats against you, Morgana, and Gaius,” Merlin yelled back.  He deflated a moment later, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

“And what about you?”  Arthur glared at him, wondering if he could slap some sense into him and guiltily dismissing the thought as soon as it arrived.

“I’ll… I’ll be ok.  Just…” Merlin swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.  When he spoke again, his voice was thick. “Just tell Gaius thank you, for everything.  And tell mum something that’s… not this. Tell her something heroic, and that I’ll miss her, but that she shouldn’t worry about me.  Mustn’t worry about me.”

“Merlin, no, no goodbyes, I won’t…”

“Arthur,” he said quietly, taking his hand and running a thumb over his knuckles, “let me finish this, yeah?”  Arthur nodded, and Merlin smiled softly, “Tell Morgana that I’m sorry we didn’t finish our lessons, but that she’s strong enough and talented enough to manage on her own.  Gwen should know that I’m sorry I left, I’m glad I saw her again - I missed her - and that let Lance know he’s the only man I’ve ever met whose anywhere near good enough for her.  Go back to Mr Kilgharrah and say I’m sorry I didn’t help him. And…” He choked on a laugh, “Tell Arthur Pendragon that even though he’s a complete prat most of the time, he’s still going to be a better man than his father could ever hope to be, and I’m sorry we didn’t get more time.”

“Merlin-”  Arthur’s voice was ragged, and whatever he was going to say got lost on the way from his mind to his mouth.  In the end, he just opened his arms for Merlin to slide into and held him tight until the guards came to prise them apart.

 

Red-eyed and furious, Arthur marched through the halls of Camelot.  He caught Guinevere by the arm and leaned in close to her ear: “Get Morgana and Lance and take them to my office.  We’re getting Merlin out.”

 

Arthur arrived at his office with Gaius in tow, heart still burning with pain and fury.  “He was giving goodbyes,” he said, voice tight, in way of explanation. Guinevere let out an almost silent noise of despair and leant against Lance’s arm, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.  Morgana began to pick at her already ruined red nail polish, and Gaius sagged, looking older by the minute. Arthur nodded solemnly, “We have to get him out.”

“Carefully,” Guinevere murmured, eyes opening.  “He’s still got an eye on Morgana.”

Morgana hushed her, not unkindly, “It’s not important.  Merlin is.”

“No, it is important.”  Arthur pointed to himself, Morgana, and Gaius, “He signed the paper because Aredian threatened us.  If he feels that we’re in danger he’ll do and say anything. We have to keep the danger to a minimum.”

“Me and Lance do the legwork then,” Guinevere said.  “Mr Aredian hardly knows us.”

Arthur nodded approvingly.  “Just make sure you don’t draw attention to yourselves.”  He leaned on his desk, “First things first, we have to prove that Aredian planted the amulet in Merlin’s desk.”

“I’ll go,” Guinevere said.  “Show it to me on the map and then wait here - it won’t take long.”

 

Gwen kept to the walls of the corridor, making use of the blind spots Morgana had once pointed out to her.  “Just in case,” she’d said.

“Just in case of what?”

“Just in case.”

Gwen wondered a moment if Morgana had suspected something like this would be necessary one day.  Or perhaps she’d dreamed it - Gwen wasn’t blind, she knew Morgana’s dreams were linked to what was happening, or what was going to happen.  She was just smart enough not to mention it. (It was like the mysterious happenings that  _ always _ happened around Merlin, and the way he and Arthur looked at each other - keep your head down and don’t mention it.  You didn’t see anything. You  _ never  _ saw anything.  That was how to keep people safe.)

She was also smart enough that she remembered her brother, Elyan, going through his rebellious phase and teaching her how to deal with locks.  She pulled the pick out of her pocket and crouched at the door. It opened with a click and she slid inside, locking it behind her.

Aredian’s room was orderly and bare.  The bed barely looked slept in. Which meant…  She dug through bedding and pillows looking for another amulet, straightening each after she was finished.

Nothing.

So the next check was below the bed, and there was nothing but disgustingly large clusters of dust - someone needed to get the cleaners involved.  Bedside table - nothing. Wardrobe - nothing. Cupboard… locked.

She smirked.

The cupboard didn’t have any amulets, but it did have several bottles of a liquid.  She slipped one into her pocket and relocked the cupboard.

 

The doorknob twisted.

 

Her heart clenched painfully and she dived under the bed, figuring that some dusty hair and clothes were better than being caught.  Mr Aredian paused in the entrance as if he sensed something off. He stalked towards the bed and Gwen held her breath - Aredian flung the curtains aside and, not seeing anyone there, seemed satisfied.  He took a fresh pen from the pot and then left.

Gwen heaved a sigh of relief and then got out as quickly as she could, running back to Arthur’s office so that when she arrived her lungs burned and her breath came in pants.

 

Gaius took the bottle from Gwen and examined it, swirling it to see the colour and smelling it.  He hummed a little and said “ah” for a second. Then he took out his phone and his glasses and squinted at it: “Merlin insisted on starting to digitise my books.  I never thought I’d ever be grateful for it.” He read through something and nodded, “As I thought. Belladonna.”

Arthur frowned.  “Isn’t that poisonous?”

“Yes, but under certain conditions, it can be used to produce a tincture to cause hallucinations.”

“So it wasn’t magic they saw,” Lance breathed, “it was just hallucinations.  But how did he get it to them?”

“What were the women’s names?”  Morgana asked suddenly. Arthur handed her the list and she nodded.  “They were all in a meeting with me that morning. There was food there, and they were the only three to eat any of it.”

“Then we go to see the cook.  Gwen, Lance, with me. Morgana, Gaius - we need something completely solid, something unshakeable.”  He shot them a significant look, “Any means necessary.”

Gaius nodded.

  
  


“Agent Pendragon!”  The cook seemed surprised to see him, “What can I do for you?”

“Did you provide the food for Agent Morgana Pendragon’s most recent meeting?”

“Yes, yes, I did.  Was something wrong with it?”

Guinevere stepped forward, “Yes, there was.  But I don’t think you did it yourself. I think someone told you to - someone so powerful you were afraid to say no.”

“Did- did what?”

Arthur pulled out the bottle, “Did someone give you a bottle like this?”

“Wha-  No!”

“Our friend is in a lot of trouble because of this,” Lance said quietly.  “We’re being polite now, but if something were to happen to him…” He let the threat hang in the air and Arthur blinked, impressed despite himself.  He’d forgotten quite how good Lance was at the intimidation thing.

“I- I-”

“Aredian gave you the bottle, didn’t he.”

“I never said-”

Gwen stared at him, “Please, you have to tell us.”

“He forced me to,” he said finally, “he said he’d have me arrested for sorcery if I said anything.”

“So it was him?”  She pressed again, “It was Aredian.”

“Yes, it was Aredian.”

 

Whilst the trio interrogated the cook, Morgana and Gaius looked at each other.

“Any means necessary,” Morgana said lowly.  “Should I assume he told you? Or was it Merlin?”

“No, neither.  Neither would ever think to betray your trust.”  Gaius smiled wanly, “You forget who’s been treating you for all these years.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”  Morgana wasn’t sure if she was furious or devastated.  She compromised and kept her face carefully blank. 

“I thought that it would be better for your safety.”  Gaius shrugged uncomfortably, “Right or wrong, I made my decision.  I apologise if it hurt you. But I must admit that it’s a relief to have another magic user now.  My own is not a strong as it used to be, nor am I in practice - if I was ever in practice. I’m not certain I falsify enough evidence on my own.”

Morgana nodded, recognising the shift in topic for what it was - deflecting her attention.  Still, Merlin needed their help. “Alright. Alright. We need amulets.”

“We need them in the Witchfinder’s room.  Otherwise, it’ll be too easy for him to claim we’re lying.”

“Ok.  I can make them and duplicate them, but…”  She looked down, “Merlin hasn’t taught me to unlock doors yet.”

“Luckily, that is something my weak magic can manage.”  He smiled a little, “In fact, it was I who taught Merlin that spell in the first place.”  He let out a huff of air and added under his breath, “It wasn’t all that damned dragon.”

“Mr Kilgharrah?”  Morgana raised an eyebrow, “Merlin mentioned a... rivalry when he told Arthur to go see him.”

Gaius scoffed: “There’s no rivalry.  The man’s just… insufferable. Giving my nephew prophecies and destinies to worry about - not to mention a predilection for the illegal.  Do you remember when some of Camelot’s more… sensitive documents were accessed? That was Kilgharrah corrupting  _ my  _ boy!”

“What?  Merlin managed to get in there?”

Gaius humphed again, but there was a hint of pride when he said, “Merlin does have a talent for hacking, though he perhaps doesn’t utilise it as much as we thought he would when he joined Camelot.”

Morgana smiled slightly, “Come on then, let’s go rescue your boy.”

Gaius blushed a little but didn’t contradict her as they walked.  He’d never had children of his own - Alice had been taken from him before they’d had the chance, and he was far too old, now - but Merlin…  Well, Merlin was close enough.

 

“Aliese,” Gaius murmured, hand against the lock of the door.  The magic of the Old Religion he’d abandoned flowed like gold through his veins and warmed him as it went, relaxing taut muscles and bones that ached with his age.  He smiled slightly as the lock slid open - despite everything he’d tried to tell himself, against every survival instinct he possessed, he  _ missed _ magic like he’d miss a limb.  He and Morgana entered and shut the door behind them, and Gaius locked it.  “Did you hear the spell?” he asked.

“Yes.  Why?”

“You can try it on the door as we leave,” Gaius offered.  A peace offering, an attempt to earn her forgiveness.

Morgana hesitated a moment, and then grinned briefly, “Yes, please.  Now…” She walked over to a cupboard. “Merlin  _ has  _ taught me to create things from nothing.  Somehow, he must have thought that was a worthier enterprise than unlocking doors.”  She chuckled and then focussed, “Hlyste min níehst bebod.”

“Is that it?”

“I hope so,” Morgana said quietly.  She’d never performed a spell under pressure.  From what she’d heard - what she assumed - Merlin was very skilled at it…  She hoped that had been passed on.

“Good.”  Gaius motioned to the door, “Now, pronounce it clearly, and focus on the intent.  Ask, don’t demand, and trust in yourself.”

Morgana smiled and giggled as she walked over, “Merlin said the very same thing.”

 

“Ah, good morning, Merlin.”

“And you, Witchfinder.”

Merlin was a little recovered, having been untouched since he’d confessed.  His interrogation would commence that evening, though, so he was treasuring these last few nearly pain-free hours.

“I hope you feel better, now you’ve got your guilt off your chest.”  He took a seat, “You know, I always  _ thought  _ you were lying, all those years ago.”

Merlin blinked.  “You remembered that?”  He hadn’t expected that.  “I wasn’t lying then, though.  I hadn’t seen anything, especially nothing from Mrs Allyworth.”

Aredian hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t comment.

“Is there a reason you’re here?  Or do you simply wish to gloat.”

He laughed quietly, “You are a spirited one, aren’t you Merlin.  I wonder if your uncle will manage the same fire - he is getting on a bit now, isn’t he.”

“What?”  Merlin’s voice was cold, fury hiding the fear.  He leaned closer and fair spat, “We had an arrangement, Aredian.”

Aredian chuckled darkly and stood to leave, “Oh, Merlin.  I don’t bargain with sorcerers.”

 

Arthur and his team, plus the cook (being chivvied along by Guinevere and Lancelot), marched down the corridor towards Uther’s office.  They must have looked intimidating, Arthur thought with a slight smirk, because cleaners and agents alike pressed themselves against the wall to get out of their way and craned their necks to watch as they passed by.

He opened the door to the office without knocking and led them inside, cruelly pleased that Aredian was there to witness the crumbling of his plot.

“Arthur-” Uther began, about to launch into a lecture.

“Father,” he cut in.  “We have proof that Merlin is innocent.”  He motioned to the cook, who was shoved forward, cringing slightly, into Uther’s line of sight.  “The witnesses saw no magic, simply hallucinations induced by the food this man was forced to serve to Morgana’s meeting that morning.”

“Is this true?”

“Yes, sir,” the cook said, seeming terrified.  “The Witchfinder gave me a bottle to pour over the food.”

“Absurd!” Aredian interjected, but Arthur noted he was a shade paler.

Uther carried on with no indication he’d heard.  “Did he tell you what it was for?”

“No, sir.  Just that he’d have me arrested for sorcery if I didn’t.  I didn’t want to, sir, but I was afraid-”

“Enough,” Uther said.  “Return to your post, and know that if I find you are lying, there will be severe consequences.”

The man nodded and - god above -  _ bowed _ , before almost fleeing the room.

“Come now,” Aredian laughed, “you don’t  _ really  _ believe this.  It’s lies concocted to save their friend.”

“Are you suggesting,” Uther said dangerously, “that both of my children are lying for the sake of a sorcerer.”

“Of course not,” Aredian blustered, “but perhaps being in the sorcerer’s presence for so long has allowed him to put them under his thrall.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Ridiculous.”  He allowed himself a mocking smile, “A quick search of the man’s room will provide us all the proof we need.”

Aredian stared, mute with impotent rage, and nodded viciously.  Arthur lead the way to the rooms.

 

“You’re wasting your time,” Aredian said as Arthur and Uther tossed over the room.

“Check the cupboards, Arthur,” Morgana suggested innocently.  Arthur nodded, looked to Uther for permission, and smashed the lock in order to throw it open.

A great pile of amulets, identical to the one that had incriminated Merlin, tumbled onto the floor.  Beside them, sat a cluster of bottles that Gaius identified as Belladonna.

“Those things don’t belong to me!” Aredian yelled, almost hysterical.  “They plot against me! It’s a trick!”

It was only because Morgana was stood beside him that she noticed the glint of mischief in Gaius’ eye before the glint of gold and whisper: “Ceolwærc.”

“A trick!” Aredian repeated before he coughed once, twice.  A third time - a toad leapt from his throat and landed, looking extremely displeased for a toad, on the floor.

“Sorcerer!” Uther gasped.  He and Arthur drew their guns and aimed at Aredian.  “You are hereby under arrest for the crime of using magic to endanger the lives of the innocent.”  Uther’s eyes were cold and gave away nothing, not even a hint of pain at being betrayed. “Gaius,” he said, still looking Aredian, “go and release your nephew from the cells and give him my apologies and my commendation for his bravery.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Morgana, Gwen, and Lance followed behind, eager to see Merlin, too.

 

Arthur and his father remained with Aredian.  Arthur lunged forward and handcuffed him, taking no pains to be gentle.  Uther nodded approvingly.

“You will be interrogated to discover your intentions,” Arthur said coldly, “as you so nearly had Merlin Myrddin interrogated.  And you will tell us exactly how many of your victims were really sorcerers, and how many you condemned for the reward.”

 

Merlin hissed as Gaius slathered some salve over his back.

“What did they do to you, my boy?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” he said tightly.  He was glad the others were gone; he didn’t want them to see him like this.  Besides, he’d already thanked Gwen and Lancelot and, when they were gone, beamed at his student and told her how proud he was.  

(She’d blushed a little and swatted at him, “Proud of me?  I’m older than you, you know.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be proud.”)

Arthur was busy overseeing the interrogation of Aredian with his father, so Merlin would see him another time.  “Tell me again why Aredian’s in interrogation?”

“Enchanted amulets were found in his cupboards,” Gaius said again.  Then he hesitated and added an extra detail, “And he had a frog in his throat.  Or, rather, a toad.”

“ _ What _ ?”  Merlin craned his neck around, “Did you…?”

Gaius simply smiled and Merlin turned back around.

“What happened to using magic for serious business, rather than pranks?”

Gaius hummed and finished applying the salve before he answered.  “Your mother and I learned an excellent phrase when we were growing up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.  ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’”

 

Merlin’s laughter was still echoing in the empty halls when Arthur came to check on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everybody, and thanks for reading so far! I know this chapter is a little dialogue heavy - or at least, it seemed that way to me - so if you've any feedback just leave a comment. Thanks!
> 
> Lots of love,  
> Phoenix xx


	5. Chapter 4 - Operation Morgause

_ Markus ran to his master, “Lord Drakon!  Lord Drakon! The Witchfinder is dead!” _

_ Drakon laughed cruelly.  “An enemy of magic dead in interrogation.  What did I tell you, old friend?” He swept his arms open, “Change is coming.” _

*

_ Morgause scowled as she paced her room, tugging at a strand of golden hair.  She had paid good money for the Witchfinder to give her a reason to rescue her sister, to give her a reason to earn her trust, and now he was dead, and Morgana remained deep in the clutches of Uther and Camelot, who still spread the filthy lies about Nimueh Carr and Ygraine Pendragon. _

_ She heaved in a calming breath.  She wanted Morgana by her side and, if possible, she wanted Arthur to strike the final blow against Uther before she eliminated him.  The pain of the betrayal that would show on Uther’s face would be delicious. _

_ She licked her lips and began to set her plans in motion. _

 

*

 

_From:_ _Le Fay_

_ I’ve got an email from a _ __   
_ stranger.  Do you think you _ __   
_ could find the stranger if I _ _   
_ __ brought my computer.

 

Merlin extracted himself from Arthur’s arms by poking him in the ribs where he knew he was ticklish.

“I have to get my phone,” he laughed as Arthur pouted.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Arthur sighed dramatically and paused the film they were watching.  (Alright, Merlin was watching. Arthur was complaining about how unrealistic it was, and how much of a cliche Merlin was - but how could someone dating a secret agent  _ not _ put on James Bond?)

“On second thoughts,” Merlin said as he read, “maybe I won’t.  Morgana wants me to have a look at an email from an unknown sender.”

“Doesn’t she have a virus checker built in?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “She wants me to find the sender, cabbage-head.”

“Fine,” Arthur groaned, neatly hitting Merlin on the head for the insolence.  “Just tell her to come over here. You can compare it to the email I got.”

“You got an email?”

“Send the text, Merlin.  Then you can poke your nose in my business.”

Merlin stuck his tongue out in the most mature way possible before responding to Morgana.

  
  


_From:_ _Merlin_

_ I can give it a try!  I’m _ __   
_ at Arthur’s flat, he says _ _   
_ __ bring it over.

 

“Now,” Merlin said, “email from a mysterious sender?”

Arthur shrugged.  “It’s just a bit… personal.  They, er…” He cleared his throat, “They say they know my mother.”

“Oh.”  Merlin sat back next to him on the couch, taking his hand in his.  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.”  Arthur cleared his throat again, “Anyway, if you can see if its the same sender, we can work out how likely it is that they’re telling the truth.”

Merlin nodded and turned the film back on.  Arthur rolled his eyes and pulled Merlin back into his arms.  (“If I have to put up with James bloody Bond, you put up with this.”)

 

When the knock on the door heralded Morgana, it was Arthur who rose to answer.  Merlin went to Arthur’s kitchen table and shoved some papers out of the way of two seats so he had some space to work.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Morgana joked as she walked in.

Arthur scoffed, “Just Merlin’s terrible film choices.”

“Bond?”  Morgana raised an eyebrow, “I’ve heard you making Bond references on the job, Arthur.  What are you talking about, terrible choices?”

“Every agent should know Bond references,” Arthur said sternly.  “None should be forced to watch it and endure its inaccuracies.”

Morgana rolled her eyes but moved on, “Merlin?”

“In the kitchen!”

 

Merlin grinned as she entered, making grabby hands until she handed over the laptop.  “Before I open it,” he said, “how much of the email do I need to not look at.”

“As much as possible,” Morgana said.  “It’s a little personal.”

Merlin frowned, “Arthur said the same.  Why would someone who obviously knows about you hide their identity?”  He didn’t wait for an answer before he started loading up the emails on both computers.

 

“You had an email?” Morgana asked as Merlin asked.

“This morning,” Arthur admitted.  “Woke me up.”

Morgana nodded sympathetically, “How are you holding up?”  Aredian had died early that morning, and she knew Arthur had seen it.  Even if Merlin didn’t say it, it was probably why he’d come around and picked a film he knew Arthur could amuse himself with grumbling about - she made a mental note to thank him later.

“I’m fine,” Arthur said automatically.  “I care nothing for the Witchfinder.”

Morgana opened her mouth to protest, only to be interrupted by Merlin who - absorbed by the laptops - hadn’t heard a word of their conversations.

“Oh, whoever sent this is clever,” he said appreciatively.  “Look at that.”

The Pendragon siblings looked at the screen.

“Very clever,” Arthur agreed, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.  “Now, if you’d be so kind as to tell us what it means, that’d be lovely.”

Merlin blushed a little, embarrassed at getting over-excited.  He always forgot that people didn’t always understand computers like him, who’d been trained for years.  He used to do the same with Gwaine, who’d roll his eyes and say “I need to be drunker to find meaning in random symbols, Merls.”

He cleared his throat, “I tried tracing the IP address to find out where it was sent from, but it’s telling me four different locations that keep changing.  I bet they used magic because even my spells aren’t getting me anywhere. Still,” he smiled a little smugly, “they weren’t clever enough to stop me getting a name.  Unless they wanted me to get a name. But anyway: Morgause.” He looked around, “Do either of you recognise that name?”

Arthur shook his head but Morgana hesitated.  “I… I don’t know a Morgause, but the name sounds familiar somehow.”

“Strange,” Arthur said.  “Did you dream it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’ll mention the name to father.  He’ll know anyone who knows my mother.”

“No!”  Morgana yelped before blushing as the others looked at her, “I mean…  Just wait for a night.”

 

Arthur frowned at her.  “You’re going to meet her, aren’t you?”

“What?”  Morgana tried to laugh, “No, of course not.”

“Morgana…”

“Alright,” she snapped, “I am.  I have to. She said…” She shook her head, “I’m going to see her.”

“Will you let me organise surveillance of the area?” Arthur asked, a little pleadingly.

“No.  I can look after myself.”  Perhaps she noticed the looks on the boys’ faces, because she added, “Fine, I’ll check in and out with you, Merlin.”

He nodded gratefully.

“Right.”  Morgana took back her laptop.  “If you’ll excuse me, even if some people have the day off, some of us have meetings to be bored by.”

Arthur laughed, “Enjoy yourself!”

 

He stopped smiling when she left.  Merlin frowned and patted the seat next to him.  “What’s wrong, Arthur?”

“I…  Maybe I won’t ask my father about her.”

“Oh?”  Merlin tried to keep his nerves out of his voice as he asked, “Why not?”  Arthur stayed silent and Merlin groaned, “You’ve decided to meet her, too.”

“Tomorrow night,” Arthur admitted.

Merlin sighed.  “I suppose it would be useless to suggest that its probably a trap,  _ especially _ as she’s seeing both Pendragon children one after the other.”

“Yep.”

Merlin sighed again.  “Well, you’re  _ definitely _ not going alone.  I’ll tell Gaius when I get home and thank the gods for extended medical leave.”

The smirk on Arthur’s face suggested he’d been counting on his being there.

 

“Morgause?”  Morgana lit a fire in the palm of her hand, “Morgause?  Are you here?”

Hyde Park.  That was where she’d been told to go.  She’d texted Merlin the moment she’d arrived, and he’d texted back a smiley face and a quick,  _ I know you will be, but please be careful. _  She’d rolled her eyes at that, ignoring the warmth it brought her - Merlin was always overprotective and over-nervous.  Like a little brother with trust issues.

“Morgana!”  A blonde woman stepped out of the shadows, hands clutching at the skirt of her red dress.  “I’m glad you came.”

Morgana nodded, pushing thoughts of brothers out of her mind.  “I needed to know the truth of what you said.”

“And you will,” Morgause smiled.  “But first, will you let me take a look at you?”

Morgana nodded uneasily and Morgause stepped forward, looking at her with desperate hunger, drinking in every part of her from her dark hair to her heeled shoes.  She lifted a hand as if to cup Morgana’s face and hesitated as she flinched away, lowering it again.

“I’m sorry, Morgana, I just - never thought I’d find you.”  She reached into a brown bag hanging off her shoulder, “I brought you a gift.”

“Oh?”  Morgana couldn’t help the prickling of suspicion but accepted the bracelet pressed into her hands anyway.  “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it.”  She smiled, “I’m glad you like it.  It’ll help you to control your visions.”

Morgana froze, blood turning to ice in her veins.  Her voice was cold as she faced her, one hand already hovering over the butt of her pistol - Merlin might have begun teaching her defensive and offensive magic, but a pistol was still (for the moment) more reliable.  “How do you know about that.”

Morgause lifted her hands in a placating manner.  “Peace, Morgana. I know because I, for a time, had something of the gift.  It left me, eventually, but not before I Saw how powerful you could be - and how much pain it would cause you before you were trained.”

“What bearing do your faded talents have on mine?” Morgana demanded.

Morgause flinched a little - apparently, the loss of her powers of Sight was a touchy subject, a fact that Morgana filed away for late,  “Because they came from my mother -  _ our _ mother.”

“So it’s true.”  Morgana let her hand drop from where it hung.  “You really think you’re my half-sister.” She laughed drily, “Are you mad, or are you lying?”

“Look at the bracelet, Morgana.  Look at the inscription.”

“Vivienne.”  She traced her mother’s name with her thumb and then hardened her heart.  “How do I know this wasn’t stolen? To trick me?”

Morgause looked sadly at her, “Do you really believe that, sister?”

Morgana looked down, “No.  No, even before I met you tonight, I felt like I already knew you.”

 

Morgause nodded, smiling slightly.  “I thought so. Whilst you were sent to Uther, I was taken to the High Priestesses of the Old Religion.”

“Why?”

“I was already showing signs of magic.  Your father would never have allowed me to escape - not with Operation Purge in effect.  Even now… He mustn’t know that we met.”

“I understand.”  And she did. Morgana couldn’t imagine telling Uther about her own magic, and he  _ raised _ her.  Morgause had no chance.

“Thank you, sister.”  Morgause smiled softly and reached for Morgana’s empty hand.  Morgana hesitated for a moment before giving it to her. “I have to leave.  But I will see you again - wait for my message, yes?”

Morgana nodded and Morgause raised her hand to her lips.

“Farewell, sister.”  And then she was gone.  Morgana was alone.

“Farewell.”

 

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Merlin groused, tugging at his jacket.  Arthur sighed. Merlin had been complaining the whole time they’d been driving. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“For the last time, Merlin, she said that I’ll know when the time comes.”

“So no, then.”  Merlin let his head sink back into the headrest.  “Great.”

“Is there a point to the complaining, Merlin?”

“You know in the films when the driver goes ‘if you don’t stop complaining I’ll turn this car around’?”

Arthur gave a snort of laughter, “I don’t know  _ how  _ your mother coped with you.”

Merlin ignored the jab.  “But what does she want you to do for her?”

“How do you know she wants something?” Arthur asked absently, keeping his eyes on the road.  As he came to a fork he closed his eyes and waited for a sign for the way - he heard Merlin swear inventively beside him when he noticed before a tug in his gut made him turn.

Merlin took in a breath to recover before rolling his eyes, “Of course she wants something.  She sent a mysterious email offering information.”

Arthur gave up the pretence, “She wants me to complete a challenge,”

“A challenge,” Merlin said, deadpan.  And what is this challenge? What if its dangerous?  Will she still give you want you want if you refuse?”

Arthur looked sheepish for the first time, clearing his throat and looking away from Merlin.  “I can’t refuse.”

Merlin glared, “What did you do?”  Silence. “Arthur Pendragon, what have you done now?”

“I gave my word.”

“You  _ what _ ?  Oh, gods-  Of course you did.  So you’ll do anything she asks you?”

“I gave my word,” Arthur said stiffly.  “It’s a matter of honour.”

Merlin groaned loudly, “I leave you alone for five minutes…  What do you do if she asks you to do something less honourable than breaking your word?”

“ _ Mer _ lin.”

“I just don’t think it’s smart to agree to something when you don’t know what it is.”

Arthur sighed.  He didn’t want to be hard on Merlin - he knew the rambling was covering up real concern - but he was being  _ very  _ irritating.  “Merlin, stop rabbiting on, or I’ll take you home and carry on on my own.”

Merlin snorted, like  _ yeah, I’d let you do that _ , and carried on, “You don’t know anything about Morgause!  You don’t know what she’s gonna ask you to do! We don’t even know where we’re going!”

“She says she knew my mother.”

Merlin closed his eyes, irritated, but - thankfully - kept his mouth shut.

 

“Hey, Gaius?”

“Morgana?”  Gaius looked up from his computer and, looking at Morgana’s face, beckoned to a lackey to come and monitor Leon’s body cam.  “I’ll be right with you,” he told her. He pointed to the images the lackey had to monitor specifically, “If you see anyone in this corridor, boy, you tell that microphone straight away.  Otherwise, radio silence. Understood?”

The lackey nodded and Gaius smiled encouragingly before following Morgana to the medical room.  “How can I help you?”

“I was given a bracelet from a… new acquaintance.  She said it would keep the nightmares away.”

“I see.  Would her name happen to be Morgause?”

“Did Merlin tell you?”

“No.”  No - Merlin’s loyalty to his friends was second to nothing.  He’d never even think of betraying Morgana’s trust. “No. However, he did tell me that he and Arthur are on their way to meet a young woman called Morgause and that he thinks there is reason for some concern.”

Morgana looked at him levelly, “Did he really?”

Gaius chuckled, “Perhaps not in so many words.  He actually said, ‘if you find mine and Arthur’s bodies in the wood it was Morgause from the evil, and you should know that my last words will have been I told you so’.  But I thought that was perhaps a little overdramatic.”

Rolling her eyes and smiling a little, Morgana handed over the bracelet.  “I don’t trust her. I’d be grateful if you’d check it for me. Merlin, too, if he’s got the time.”

Gaius nodded and took it gingerly, running a thumb over the engraved name.  “I’m sure Merlin will find some time - though it might be tomorrow, depending on the state he comes home in.  And I’ll do a few checks this evening.”

Morgana smiled, “Thank you, Gaius.  And-” She hesitated a moment before ploughing on, “If you’re doing this to make up for hiding my magic from me, you don’t have to.  I… I understand that you were trying to protect me, and I wish you had told me, but I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Gaius said quietly, and Morgana blanched a little as she noticed a suspect glimmer in the old man’s eye.  She reached a hand to pat his arm gently, paused, and then hugged him tightly. She smirked a little, feeling him flail for a moment, and then softened it to a smile as he squeezed back.

“All is forgiven.”

Merlin had given up his cunning scheme of complaining sometime ago when they pulled over for Arthur to take a break from driving and to eat lunch.  He’d fired off a quick  _ All’s fine _ to Gaius and then grabbed a blanket he’d stashed in the boot.

Arthur shot him a slightly mocking glance, “Getting comfy there, Merlin?”

“Do you want to sit on wet grass?” Merlin asked, nose in the air, as he smoothed out the creases and weighed the corners down with loose rocks.  “No? Then don’t dis the blanket.”

Arthur snorted, and then laughed as Merlin missed the sandwich he tossed.  Merlin glared, determinedly keeping the corners of his mouth from turning up.

 

They ate quickly, but Merlin was disinclined to hurry on their way.  Luckily for him, neither was Arthur - he let out a sigh and lay down, head in Merlin’s lap.  Almost on instinct, Merlin started carding his fingers through blond hair.

“Comfy?”

Arthur grinned, closing his eyes to the sky, “Very.”

Merlin rolled his eyes.  He waited a moment before: “What was your mother like?”

“I don’t know.  I never met her.  She was killed before I opened my eyes.  I don’t know anything about her.”

Merlin frowned, even though Arthur spoke lightly.  “I’m sorry, I thought- Your father-”

Arthur gave a choked laugh, opening his eyes, “Father would rather pretend she never existed.  I think it hurts him too much. I used to think…” He closed his eyes again, not peacefully this time, but resignedly.  “I just have… a sense of her.”

Merlin felt guilty.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir it all up for you.”

“It’s fine, Merlin.”  Arthur smiled sadly, “I mean, it’s always there, isn’t it?  Your father... there must be something like that for you, right?”

“I…  I guess so.  Mum doesn’t mention him.  Won’t even tell me how he died.  I- I mean, sometimes - sometimes I think I have a memory of him but I think…  I think it’s just my imagination. It must be my imagination because I think he was gone before I was born.”

“I’d give anything just for that,” Arthur admitted quietly.

“That’s why you’re so determined to see Morgause.”

Arthur laughed breathlessly, “Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Merlin spoke quietly, letting his hand trail from hair down Arthur’s cheek.  “No, it’s not.”

Arthur let out a breath but didn’t say anything more, just closed his eyes again.

 

“We appear to be at a dead end,” Merlin found himself saying about an hour and a half later.

“No,” Arthur said, opening his door.  “Come on, out the car.”

Merlin sighed and complied.  “Got a gut feeling?”

“Not yet.”  Arthur felt a tug like a metal hook in his stomach, “Yes.”  He stumbled a little and then strode forward.

“That’s a  _ rock _ ,” Merlin deadpanned.  “You are not a ghost. You can't phase through rocks.”

“No, but…”  Arthur stuck his hand through the rock, “That’s not a rock.”

Merlin jogged forwards and stared at the not-rock.  “Woah…” He stuck his hand through it, then trotted back a little and threw a stone at it.  The stone bounced back and he jumped back with a small yelp before looking back at the not-rock in awe.  “That is brilliant. An illusion that only lets people through - maybe only lets people she wants through.”  He looked at Arthur, too in awe to even sound worried, “This Morgause is mad powerful. And, er, if there was any doubt, definitely a sorceress.”

Arthur nodded and then grabbed Merlin’s wrist, “Quit gawking and come on.”  He dragged him through the not-rock. Merlin stumbled along after him, giving the perfunctory grumbling that was required to maintain his dignity.

 

“Woah,” Merlin said again, for the second time in five minutes.  “Do you think she made that on her own?”

“The giant castle that’s featured on no map?”  Arthur looked up at it, “Quite possibly.”

“Woah.”

“You’ve already said that,” Arthur said, faking exasperation and grabbing his arm.  He walked them right up to the door of the castle and knocked. Merlin pulled his arm free.

The door swung open of his own accord.

“That’s a bad omen,” Merlin said absently.  Arthur ignored him. As they walked in they found themselves in a bare chamber, empty except for a wooden block and heavy axe.  Merlin sucked in a breath, “And that’s a worse one.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said tersely.

“I’m just saying,” he said quietly, but fell silent.

“You kept your promise,” came a woman’s voice.  They span round to see a blonde woman in a red dress walking through an archway towards them.  “I wasn’t sure you would.”

Merlin felt Arthur bristle beside him.  “I always keep my promises. What challenge do you wish to set me?”

The woman - Merlin decided she was probably Morgause - smiled.  “Place your head on the block for me.” Arthur blinked and Merlin’s heart lurched.  Morgause picked up the axe, “You gave your word.”

Arthur started towards the block but Merlin clutched his sleeve, “Arthur,  _ don’t _ .”

He brushed his hand away from his sleeve and placed his head on the block.

“Arthur, no.  What are you doing?”  Merlin flexed his palm, head already full of spells to use.  “I won’t let you do this.”

Arthur saw his hand and scowled at him, “Merlin, stay out of this.”

Morgause began to swing the axe and Merlin sucked in a breath to begin his spell, when - quite suddenly - she put the axe back down, smiling.  “You have shown that you are truly a man of your word, Arthur Pendragon, and for that, I will grant you what you came to hear.”

 

Merlin sighed in silent relief, letting his hand drop to his side as Arthur stood.  “You’ll tell me about my mother?” Arthur breathed, excitement in every line of his body.

“I can do better,” Morgause said, “I can show her to you if you’d like to see her.”

Even from where he stood, Merlin could see how Arthur’s eyes lit up as he almost whispered, “I’d like that more anything,” and even though he was  _ definitely _ going to chew him out later for putting his head on a  _ goddamned chopping block _ , he was glad they’d come.

Morgause nodded solemnly, “Then step forward, Arthur Pendragon.  I am no Seer, but I can feel that her time grows near-” she pressed her hands in his and beamed at him “-she wants to see you so desperately, I feel it through the veil.”

“I want to see her, too,” Arthur said hoarsely.

Morgause let go of her hands and raised them to the sky, “Close your eyes, Arthur.  Arásae mid min miclan mihte þín suna to helpe. Hider eft funde on þisse ne middangeard þín suna w’æs.”

 

“Arthur.”

A soft voice, slightly choked with tears bade Arthur open his eyes.  For some strange reason, even as his heart soared, he was afraid. He kept them squeezed close.

“Arthur.”  The voice was closer now, and a soft hand stroked his cheek.  He let his eyes open and gazed into a matching pair.

“Mum,” he whispered, feeling tears well.

“My son,” she whispered, before pulling him into a hug.  Arthur tried not to sob and hid his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of flowery perfume.  “My son,” she whispered again, before letting him go. “Let me see you. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby.  So tiny.” She gave a little choked laugh, “You were staring up at me with my eyes like you were already looking for answers.  I remember that.” She smiled and took his hands, “Those few seconds I held you were most precious of my life.”

It was a testament to how fogged with emotion Arthur’s mind was that he didn’t pick up on it being seconds when it’d been a few days before Nimueh had tracked her down.  “I’m sorry,” he said, voice something closer to a sob than a voice.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” his mother said firmly.

“If it wasn’t for me, you’d have been stronger.  Nimueh would never have overpowered you.”

“Overpowered me?”  His mother frowned, “No, Nimueh is the reason you were born.  Neither of you bears guilt - your  _ father _ should bear the guilt if there is any.”

 

Arthur dropped her hands, stomach filled with ice, “What are you talking about?”

“It’s better left in the past.”

“Why should father feel guilty?” he demanded.

“It’s not important,” she said firmly.  “What is important is you.”

“You can’t leave me with more questions,” Arthur - though he’d always deny it - almost begged.  “ _ Please _ .”

His mother sighed, turning her head to the floor.  “Your father and I- we always dreamed of having children, your father especially.  But I was… incapable. Even with medical help… I could not bear a child.”

“Then…”  The ice in Arthur’s stomach began to spread, clenching at his heart and seeping into his voice, “Then what about me?”

“Your father - he was  _ desperate _ .  He went behind my back to Nimueh and asked her for help.  You were born of magic.”

The ice melted as a little flame of anger sparked.  It wasn’t strong just yet, though. Just strong enough that Arthur was nauseous.  “That’s not true,” he said flatly. If it  _ was _ true… that would mean…

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”  His mother took a small step forward and wiped unshed tears from his eyes, “Your father deceived us both.  He knew what would happen; to create a life-”

“-another life must be taken,” Arthur finished dully, eyes on the floor.  “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“He sacrificed my life for you,” she whispered fiercely, “but that makes you no less my son and makes me no less proud of you.  I see all you have done, what you have become, and I would have volunteered myself. Don’t let this knowledge change you, Arthur.”

“I-”  Arthur looked back up, but his mother was gone.  “No…” He whipped around to look at Morgause, “Bring her back!”

“I cannot.  Once the doorway is closed, it is closed forever.”  There was pity in her eyes and Arthur  _ hated  _ her for it.  “I’m sorry. I’ll… leave you alone.”

Morgause gone, Arthur strode over to Merlin, expression stormy.  Merlin looked over him with no small amount of alarm, “What happened?  What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you hear what she said?” he growled.

Merlin shook his head.  “Me and Morgause couldn’t see her, or hear her.”

Arthur closed his eyes and let out a furious hiss of breath.  “We’re going to the car,” he said slowly. “I need to get back to Camelot.”

“What?”  Merlin looked anxiously at the blank look in his eyes, “Why?”

Arthur was silent for a moment as he started walking away.  Then he stopped, not turning around, “I’ll explain in the car.”

 

Arthur didn’t explain himself.  Merlin asked him, several times, but Arthur’s lips were tightly closed and bleached white, like his knuckles clenched on the wheel.  Merlin looked at him worriedly, and if he wasn’t so scared of distracting him on the road, he’d probably have rested his hand on the taut, tense muscles of his shoulder.  “Arthur,” he almost whispered, “ _ please _ , you’re scaring me.  Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Nostrils flaring slightly, Arthur stopped the car and closed his eyes.  “My father  _ lied _ to me.  About. Everything.”

“What?”

Arthur told him everything.

 

When they arrived at Camelot, Arthur swung out of the car.

“Arthur!”  Merlin hurried out of the car, “ _ Arthur _ !”  He tried to grab at his arm, “Arthur, please,  _ don’t _ !”  Arthur carried on and Merlin ran after him, crashing bodily into Gaius as Arthur went on towards Uther’s room.

Merlin stopped for just a moment, clutching at his uncle’s shoulders, “Arthur was born of magic.  Uther used magic.”

“Merlin…”

“Oh, Gods.”  Merlin let go and scrubbed a hand over his face, panic bubbling in the pit of his stomach, “It’s true, isn’t it.  Oh, Gods. Arthur’s going to kill him.”

“I feared what Arthur would do if he ever knew the truth.”

“What, that his father as good as murdered his mother and is as guilty as those he interrogates?  Well,” Merlin laughed bitterly, “he’s found out now.”

 

“Arthur?”  Uther looked up, taking in his son and his drawn face at the door, “What are you doing here?  I told you to take the day off.”

“I know,” Arthur said lowly, voice slightly croaky.  “I know what you did to my mother.”

Uther looked at Agent Leon, who’d been reporting on his latest work.  “Leave us.”

Leon nodded and left, looking slightly nervously at Arthur’s blank expression.

Uther stood from his desk, “What are you talking about?”

Arthur laughed a little, “What do you think?  You were so desperate for a child, you were prepared to use magic and sacrifice my mother’s life.”

“Who told you this?”

Arthur watched Uther’s face carefully.  He tried to look stern, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes.  “She told me herself. Morgause opened the veil so I could meet her, and she  _ told  _ me that she is  _ dead _ because of your selfishness and your arrogance.”  He took a step forward. Uther took a step back. “Her blood is on your hands,” he growled.

“You believe a sorceress over your own father?” he asked incredulously.

“You hunt her kind like animals!”  Arthur carried on forward, scowling.  “How many have you killed to ease your guilt?”

Uther stumbled like he was wounded but recovered quickly, “Those who practice magic will stop at nothing to destroy this country!  Have you forgotten the Uprising so quickly?” He surged forward and grabbed Arthur but his collar: “I am your father and your commander.  You will show me respect!”

“I will show you all the respect you deserve,” Arthur yelled, shoving Uther away from him.  “You are nothing but a hypocrite and a liar, and you are a danger to this country!”

He drew his gun and aimed.

 

“Have you lost your mind?” Uther asked weakly, arrogance draining away as he leant against his desk for support.

“Resign.  You have done enough damage.”

“Arthur, please, think about what you’re  _ doing _ .”

“Resign,” Arthur growled.

“I will not,” Uther said, straightening his spine.  “But I will not fight you.”

Arthur cocked the gun.  “Don’t think I won’t shoot,” he said, slightly hysterically.  “Defend yourself.”

“You are my son,” Uther said pleadingly.

Arthur scoffed, “You are not my father.”

 

Merlin burst through the doors onto this tableau.  His breath caught in his throat, “Arthur!”

It came out half-choked and just desperate enough that Arthur’s hand wavered a little, though he didn’t look away from his father.

“Don’t!” Merlin commanded.  “I know you don’t want to do this.”

“Don’t I?” he asked hysterically.  “He killed my mother!”

“Killing your father-”

“He’s not my father,” Arthur growled.

“-Uther, then,” Merlin said.  “But killing him won’t bring your mother back.”  He risked a step forward, “You’ve lost one parent, do you want to lose another?”

“Listen to him, Arthur,” Uther said.  Merlin shot him a furious look, one that said,  _ shut up _ .

“Arthur, please, put the gun down.”

“I told you what my mother said.  After everything he’s done, everyone he’s hurt, do you really believe he deserves to live?”  Arthur gestured irritably with the gun and Uther’s eyes widened nervously. “He murders people with magic - oh, sorry,  _ interrogates _ them - and yet he’s used it himself!”  He glared back to his father, “You have caused  _ so much pain _ .  I will put an end to it.”

 

Merlin heard the door open behind him, and even without looking behind him, he knew it was Gaius, looking terrified.  He hesitated a moment. He didn’t know what to do, how to stop Arthur - and Gods above, why did he have to save Uther?  It was simple enough to lie, to say Morgause was lying, but when he opened his mouth to say it, it caught in the back of his throat and choked him.

“No,” he said instead, and he could hear Gaius’ sharp intake of breath.  “No, he probably doesn’t deserve to live. But…” he finished inching forward and laid a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, relaxing slightly as Arthur didn’t shrug him off.  “I don’t think you deserve having to kill him. You deserve better than that.”

“What?”

It was sheer surprise that made Arthur lower the gun slightly, and seeing where it aimed now, Merlin could have snickered if he wasn’t so terrified.

“You shouldn’t have to kill him.  It’s not your responsibility. You might not think it means anything now, but I  _ know _ you.  I know you better than anyone, almost, and I know that you might be fine for a week, tops, but you’d regret it.  It’d  _ break _ you, Arthur - you regret  _ Aredian’s _ death.”

“I don’t,” he protested futilely.

“Oh, please,” Merlin sighed.  “Why else would I put  _ James Bond  _ on this morning.  I think it’s great, but I can’t watch anything you don’t like in peace.  What’ll you do if it’s your father you shoot.”

Arthur grit his teeth.  “What am I supposed to do?” he whispered.

“Give me the gun, Arthur,” Merlin said, putting his hand over it.  “Just give it to me. Please.”

Arthur gave a shuddering breath and let go before storming out of the room.  

 

Letting out a shaky breath, Merlin sat heavily on the floor, knees drawn almost to his face.  He let out a laugh that was almost a sob. “Oh, oh  _ fuck _ .”  He ran a hand over his face, Arthur’s gun hanging loosely from his other hand.  He clicked the safety on.

“Thank you, Myrddin-” Uther began, sagging against the desk and looking old, almost…  _ weak _ , but Merlin cut him off with a poisonous look, heaving himself from the floor.

“I suggest,” he said angrily, “that you leave Arthur alone for a while.”

He left the room with the gun in one hand and, when he reached him, Gaius’ wrist in the other.

 

“Merlin,” Gaius said quietly, leading him into the medical room, “are you alright?”

“Not really,” he said jerkily.  He put the gun down on the counter and leaning his elbows next to it, resting his head in his hands.  “I couldn’t let Arthur kill him. It would have destroyed him. Morgause must have known that - it must have been her plan.”

“I know, Merlin.”  Gaius walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder, “You did the right thing - you saved a man’s life.”

“And killed how many others?”  Merlin shrugged his uncle off and took a shuddering breath, raising his head slightly to stare at the off-white tiles of the wall.  “And I was so close to lying to Arthur,” he said, almost to himself. “What kind of man am I if I considered taking Ygraine’s last words away from him?”

“A desperate one.”  Gaius pulled gently on Merlin’s shoulder, forcing him to look at him.  “You did the right thing, Merlin, and I am proud of you.” He shook him gently and smiled at him.

Merlin ducked his head.  “I need to find Arthur. Check he’s ok.”  Gaius nodded and let him go. Merlin looked at the gun on the counter, “Maybe…”  He cleared his throat, “Maybe you should look after that for a while.”

 

Arthur sat alone in his office, one hand pressed against his mouth, facing the door with a thousand-yard stare that didn’t focus on Merlin when he appeared at the door, and Merlin didn’t like that at all.

“Arthur?”  He took a tentative step through the doorway.  “Are you… are you alright?”

“Why did you stop me?”

Arthur’s eyes finally looked at him, and they burned with anger.  Merlin looked evenly at Arthur, unintimidated by the fury blazing in cold blue eyes, swallowed, and closed the door behind him.  He walked over and stood next to him, running a hand over Arthur’s. The anger faded a little and, when Arthur looked over at him, his gaze was soft.  “Because,” Merlin told him, keeping his voice low and soothing like he was talking to a startled rabbit, “I know you. You couldn’t kill your father. You’d never have forgiven yourself.”

Arthur shrugged him off, starting to pace the office like a caged animal.  “All those people, Merlin,” he said quietly, “All those people - your people - because he couldn’t face his own guilt.”

“I know.”

“It’s cowardly.  It’s wrong!”

“I know.”

 

Arthur ran a hand through his blond hair, looking at Merlin with sudden clarity in his gaze, “Something needs to change.”

“I know.  But that won’t happen, not yet.  Not when your father’s head of Camelot.”  Merlin shook his head sadly, “His mind has been poisoned for too long.”

“Then when?”

“When you’re in charge,” Merlin said with a small, sad smile.  

Arthur stared at him - he made it sound so simple like it’d all be fine.  Like he hadn’t realised the depth of his father’s hypocrisy and lies, which had hidden the true nature of his birth from him.  It was unforgivable. And it would be unforgivable if Arthur allowed it to continue.

“I might not be head for years, Merlin.  How many people will it be too late for? How many more will die at his hand?  We need  _ change _ .”

“What kind of change?” Merlin asked suspiciously, frowning, taking a moment to take in Arthur and his words, the cold expression on his face.  “Gods, Arthur, are you suggesting…” He sent out a wave of magic, knocking out the room’s camera and preventing their words from being heard through the door.  Even after that, his paranoia won him over, and he waited until he was almost touching Arthur, lips almost against his ear. “Arthur, are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

“I can’t stand by whilst people suffer,  Merlin,” Arthur whispered back, gripping Merlin’s shoulder.  He paused, breathing unevenly for a moment, “I won’t kill him.  But maybe… I could convince him to hand control over to me. He can be a figurehead, but it’ll be our decisions that he puts out.  No one else will be hurt because they have magic.”

“Arthur…”  Merlin sighed.  He stroked Arthur’s cheek and kissed him gently on the lips, resting his forehead against his.  He was probably right, and Merlin loved him for suggesting it. Every fibre of Merlin’s being cried out that Uther’s tyranny had gone on too long, that it was Arthur’s time.  But he was biased, and he’d spent too long putting all his hope in a prophecy that said Arthur’s time was coming. What if he was wrong? What if now wasn’t time? “You understand what we’d risk?” he whispered finally.  

“Of course I do,” Arthur murmured, smiling a little because having a plan to fix what his father had broken was something to smile about, taking Merlin by the waist, kissing him lightly.  “Of course I understand, and we both know it’d be worth it.”

“I know, but…”  Merlin sighed, “Those who fought for you... if we fought…  If we lost, they would die.” Arthur’s little smile started to flicker at the edges, and Merlin brushed a hand over it, poking it up at the corners.  Arthur batted it away, but the smile was back, for the moment anyway. Merlin was glad of that - the empty stare had been… well… Still, he couldn’t let Arthur go in without hearing his piece, hearing the risks.  “Uther would forgive you. He’d say that Morgause enchanted you-” he held a finger to Arthur’s lips and quirked a smile at the raised eyebrow. “- _ I _ know she didn’t, but that’s what he’d say.  Uther would keep you by his side as he eliminated those who’d opposed him and began a new Purge.  That’s what we risk.”

Arthur deflated a little.  “It’d be worth it,” he said again, but he didn’t sound certain anymore.  It was like he was asking Merlin what he thought, asking for his permission.

Merlin sighed.  He pulled away and tried for a grin.  “Of course,” he said briskly, “if you won… that’d be a different matter entirely.”

“Oh?”  Arthur looked hopeful.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I think winning a coup would be different risks entirely.  For one, everyone would have to answer to a prat like you. And you’d have to actually do the paperwork you’re asked to.”

Arthur was grinning now, “So, you’ll help me?”

Merlin gave him a crooked smile and shrugged, “One way or another, the world is calling out for change.  Who am I to say no?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas, everyone, and HAPPY ONE YEAR EVERYONE! Yep, one year since the beginning of this series. Who'd have thought it?  
> I struggled a little the end of this - anything even approaching fluff is not my strong suit, as anyone who knows me will tell you - so if you have any feedback please let me know.
> 
> -Phoenix


	6. Chapter 5  - Operation Bastet

_ “Ætíe mé þá þé ic séce.” _

_ Morgause gazed into the misted glass of her crystal.  Arthur sat stiffly beside his father - Uther was  _ alive _.  She shrieked angrily and swept away. _

*

_ “Leon, we can trust,” Arthur said sleepily, curled up with Merlin in his bed. _

_ “He’s worked with Uther for years,” Merlin said, almost conversationally, threading his fingers through Arthur’s and holding his hand to his chest.  It wasn’t that he really doubted Arthur’s choices; he just wanted to make sure he was considering every aspect. _

_ “Yes, but he’s known me his whole life.  He’s as good as my brother.” _

_ “Like Kay?” _

_ “Like Kay,” Arthur confirmed.  He pressed a kiss to the back of Merlin’s neck.  Merlin smiled and let his eyes drift closed. _

_ “That’s still not enough, is it?” he sighed. _

_ “Not really,” Arthur said, sounding unconcerned.  “But we’ll find more. Go to sleep now.” _

_ “Bossy,” Merlin laughed, but, for once, he obeyed almost immediately. _

 

_ * _

 

_ Merlin’s books always seemed to weigh more when he was running late.  They felt like an anchor right now, as he ran from the bus stop, down three streets, and through gates of college.  He chest started to burn a little as he ran, but he didn’t let up. _

_ Which was why he was nearly full tilt when he crashed into a girl coming the other way, causing her to drop the folder and text-books she clutched awkwardly in her arms. _

_ “Oh, Gods,” he said, “I’m so, so sorry.”  He dropped his bag on the floor and scooped up her papers, handing them back to her with a sheepish smile. _

_ The girl smiled back, “It’s alright.”  She brushed a strand of brown hair from her face and took everything back, pressing them to her chest and hugging them even more securely.  “Looks like you’re in a bit of a hurry.” _

_ “Yeah, I’m due in an English lesson-” a distant bell sounded and he grimaced, running a hand through his hair “-that I’m now late for.”  He shrugged a little and grabbed his bag. “I should probably, you know…” _

_ “Run?” _

_ “Yeah,” he said, laughing a little.  “But then I’d still feel bad about making you drop everything.” _

_ “Yeah?”  The girl smiled at him, “So what’s your plan for that?” _

_ “Well, my plan is to ask you if you’d like to join me and my friends in the cafe for lunch so I can buy you a drink and some cake?” _

_ The girl smiled even wider, “Well, for that I probably need to know your name.” _

_ “Oh!”  Merlin blushed a little, “I’m Merlin, Merlin Myrddin.” _

_ The girl shifted her folder under her arm and held out a hand, “I’m Freya Bastet.” _

_ “Freya.”  Merlin beamed at took her hand, “It’s nice to meet you.” _

 

*

 

Gaius didn’t sigh, that morning, when Merlin came into work a little late, his eyes a little red, and far too quiet.  He didn’t complain when Merlin replied only with hums when given his assignment. When Gwen came in and looked nervously at Merlin, before leaning over to whisper something in Gaius’ ear, looking worried, the other techies started to murmur a little amongst themselves, out of Gaius’ sight.

Gaius didn’t even twitch when Merlin lost focus on his work, starting to gaze out of the window, and they knew something was awfully wrong, even if they didn’t mention it.

 

*

 

_ “Come one,” Freya giggled, pulling Merlin behind a tree, “I want to show you something!” _

_ Merlin laughed but went quietly.  It was strange, really, how close they’d grown within the month since he’d nearly knocked her over (which he was still a little guilty about), but maybe it was natural. _

_ “Here,” Freya whispered.  She whispered something he didn’t recognise over cupped hands and then, looking at him under her lashes, opened them to free a small, rose hip coloured butterfly that fluttered silently away to land on a branch. _

_ “That’s beautiful,” Merlin breathed.  “Will you show me?” _

_ “Of course,” she grinned.  “Here…” _

_ She pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket and started telling him the pronunciation, carefully enunciating certain syllables, and he thought,  _ Yes, this is natural.   _ This was how it was supposed to be; two best friends laughing at funny sounding words as they tried to figure out how to make Merlin make a butterfly. _

 

*

 

“Morning, Gaius,” Arthur said absently, walking into the office.  “Can I see Merlin?”

Gaius hesitated and Arthur looked at him.  Gaius  _ didn’t _ hesitate, not about letting Arthur see Merlin.  Why would he? A quiet alarm bell started to ring in the back of his mind but was easily quieted when Gaius said, “Yes, of course.  He’s at his desk.”

 

“Hi, Merlin,” Arthur said, clearly announcing his presence before putting his hand on his shoulder, even though it  _ was _ funny to watch him leap out of his computer-induced haze.

Merlin hummed an acknowledgement, holding up his head with one hand.  The alarm bell started up again, but Arthur willfully ignored it.

“Busy, huh?  That’s new.”

Merlin didn’t react, even to the mild insult.  The bell increased in volume.

“Right, well, when you’ve got the time.  Uther’s got me working on a Mr Halig - an informant - and I need you to help get the girl out of trouble.”

Merlin hummed a little.  A flashing light accompanied the bell.  Arthur squeezed his shoulder awkwardly and returned to Gaius.

“Is he… alright?”

“Not really,” Gaius sighed, “but he wouldn’t stay home.”

“What’s wrong?  Maybe I can convince him to go home.”

Gaius shook his head, and Arthur could get no more out of him, so he went to see Guinevere instead.  (She was close to Merlin; didn’t they go to school together?)

 

“Merlin?”  Guinevere sighed quietly, “Maybe I shouldn’t…  But you’re his…  _ you _ , so maybe he’d want…”  She looked furtively both ways and then took Arthur by the arm and tugged him into a deserted corner.

“You know what’s wrong, then?” Arthur asked, relieved.

“Yes.  Today’s the anniversary of Freya’s death.”

“Who?”  Arthur felt a little guilty; clearly, she was someone important to Merlin, and he’d never even heard of her.

“His girlfriend in college,” she said, and then she shot Arthur a strange look, almost like she was gauging his reaction, before carrying on.  “She was a druid, and she just… disappeared one day, on the way to a date. We tried to calm him down, but Merlin said…”

“No one with magic just disappears.”  Arthur sighed, “Yeah, he’s said that to me, too.”

Guinevere shrugged listlessly.  “He decided it was Camelot, even though they never found a body, and… well, we couldn’t disagree with him.”

“We?”

“Me, Gaius, and Gwaine.  He was our other friend - we were a group of four.  After Freya disappeared, we fell apart.” She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes, “Merlin drew away from us - he didn’t leave his room for weeks, and he wouldn’t speak to us at all - and me and Gwaine… well, there was just too much there for us to keep being friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said quietly, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s fine.”  She pulled a face, “Well, no, it’s not, but it’s in the past.  I got the shock of my life when I saw Merlin come to work  _ here _ , of all places.  But then Gaius told me it was the only place Merlin  _ could _ get a job.  Not that he’s not qualified, that’s not what I’m saying, but it’s a terrible job market these days, and, well…”

Arthur grinned.  “I understand. And… thanks, Guinevere.  Do you think I should send him home?”

“God, no.  Did Gaius say to?”  Guinevere shook her head violently, “I really don’t think Merlin should be left alone today.”

“Alright.  I’ll… keep an eye on him?”

She nodded approvingly.  “Right, I have to go. Morgana has a meeting soon, and she needs a fresh set of pens.  Bye!”

Arthur waved and stood aside, watching her go as he worried about Merlin.

 

*

 

_ “So,” Gwen started, grinning a little, “did you remember to ask Gaius if we can come round and study this time, Merlin?” _

_ Merlin chewed on his lip and pulled out his phone, “Now I did!” _

_ Gwen laughed, “Gwaine, would you?” _

_ Gwaine saluted and then shoved Merlin almost out of his seat, so he flailed his arms as the other three roared with laughter. _

_ “Oh, yeah,” Merlin pouted, very carefully not grinning, “very funny.” _

*

_ “Hell,” Gwen yelped suddenly, “I’m meant to be home in five minutes.” _

_ Merlin looked up from the books the group were pouring over, “D’you want me to ask Gaius to give you a lift?” _

_ He frowned confusedly as she flashed Gwaine a pointed look. _

_ “Oh, right,” he said suddenly.  “I’ll give you a lift, Gwen.” _

_ “Thanks,” she grinned.  “You and Freya can finish up, Merlin.” _

_ The pair flashed each other a bewildered look.  Only last week Gwen had said, incredibly firmly, that there was no way on God’s green earth that she’d ever get into the rust bucket masquerading as a car that Gwaine had recently become licensed to drive, and here she was telling him to give her a lift.  It was… suspicious, at best. _

 

_ (Merlin had a horrible feeling that he knew why.  He felt uncomfortably warm all over, squirmed a little, and cursed Gwen for being terrible at keeping secrets; he’d  _ never  _ awkwardly ask whether she thought Freya would ever, you know, like  _ like  _ someone like him - not him, of course, just  _ like _ him - again.) _

 

_ Freya tapped her pen idly on one of the open books.  Gwen and Gwaine had been gone ten minutes, and it was already duller without his comments.  And Merlin was being strangely quiet; he kept looking over like he was going to speak but then, as soon as he spotted her looking at him, he looked back at his work with a slight blush.  He hadn’t actually written anything since the other two had left. _

_ “Did I ever tell you about my home,” she asked, bored of the awkward silence, “when I was with the druids?” _

_ He shook his head. _

_ “My home was next to a lake surrounded by the tallest mountains.  In the winter the storms whipped up the water into waves and you thought they were going to crash down and take away all the houses.  But in the summer,” she smiled gently, and Merlin couldn’t take his eyes away from her pink lips, “wildflowers and light. It was like heaven.” _

_ Merlin jolted to attention when he realised she’d finished (Freya repressed a giggle when she realised), “Sounds perfect.” _

_ “It was,” she sighed.  “Where was home for you?” _

_ “Ealdor,” he shrugged nonchalantly.  “Just a small housing estate. Nothing special.  Wasn’t great but…” he smiled, “there were some fields, a park.  Couple of farms not too far away with a couple of cows each. Used to go visit them with my mum a lot.   So it was alright.” _

_ “Sounds nice,” she said.  “My family never had the chance to take me to places, but the druid elders treated me like their daughter.” _

_ “What about Mr Halig?” _

_ Freya pulled a face, “He’s always too busy to take me anywhere.  I look after myself.” _

 

_ “Do you want anything to eat?” Merlin asked her after a while. _

_ “Alright.  What is there?” _

_ He frowned, “I don’t actually know if we have anything in…”  He grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, “But I can magic you something?  Go on, what’s your favourite food.” _

_ “Ummm.”  She grinned, “Strawberries.” _

_ “Strawberries it is!”  He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together and then cupping them, “Blóstma.”  He held out his hands to her and she opened them, raising an eyebrow as she saw what he’d conjured. _

_ “That’s not a strawberry,” she giggled softly. _

_ Merlin blushed right up to the tips of his ears as he sheepishly passed her the bright red rose his almost-as-subtle-as-Gwen-about-crushes magic had created.  “I- er, I…” he coughed a little. “It’s… it’s the right colour?” _

 

_ She smiled gently at him, placing the rose by her pencil and shuffling over, slightly pink in the cheeks.  “Why are you so good to me?” she sighed, leaning against him.  _

_ Merlin swallowed quietly at the proximity.  “Because I can’t help it. I don’t know. I like you.  With you, I can just be who I am. We don’t have to hide anything.  We don’t have to worry.” He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, more than slightly embarrassed, “I’ve never met anyone like you.” _

_ Silence enveloped them for a moment - just a moment - before they were leaning in.  Their lips brushed momentarily before they sprang apart, surprised by themselves and each other.  Laughing at themselves, they leant back in, kissing shortly and sweetly a few more times before pulling back with identical grins. _

_ “We should…” Merlin pointed to the books and the notes they were meant to be doing for their friends.  Freya nodded reluctantly, going back to her seat. _

_ “Merlin?” _

_ He looked at her quizzically. _

_ “I’ve never known anyone like you, either.”  _

 

_ Gaius came down that morning to find Merlin humming, holding his bowl of cereal as he wandered aimlessly around the kitchen.  He raised an eyebrow, “Will you stop that?” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Sit down and eat your breakfast.” _

_ His nephew nodded, taking his seat and humming between mouthfuls. _

_ “ _ Merlin _.” _

_ “Sorry.” _

_ “What is wrong with you?” he asked, fairly certain that he already knew.  You’d have to be blind to not notice what his nephew was like in the presence of Freya, and he had also been asked the night before (very nicely by the meddling Gwen and Gwaine) not to disturb them because a plan to end the ‘mutual pining’ was being hatched. _

_ “Nothing,” Merlin said cheerfully.  “I feel great.” _

_ “Good.  You can get on with some chores.” _

_ Merlin swallowed his cereal down hard.  “Chores?” _

_ “Unless,” Gaius said with a smirk, “you have something better to do.” _

_ “Sorry,” came the hurried reply, “I’m going out.” _

_ “With Gwen, Gwaine, and Freya?” _

_ “Er, no,” Merlin blushed.  “Just Freya, actually.” _

_ “What time will you be back?” _

_ “Well… don’t wait for me.  I might be late.” _

 

_ Merlin scampered off, grinning, abandoning his bowl to the sink, and taking the fact that his uncle muttered, “About time, too,” as a blessing. _

 

*

 

Merlin stormed into Arthur’s office, without stopping to knock.  “The name you mentioned earlier,” he demanded.  “Say it again.”

“Mr Halig?” Arthur asked nervously.

Merlin ground his teeth and fumed silently.  A flash sparked at his fingers.

“Er, Merlin…”  Arthur swallowed.  “Gwen told me about Freya.”  He winced a little as Merlin looked down.  “Was Halig…”

“The one who informed on her?”  Arthur nodded and Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, “Had to have been.  He was… he was her foster father. He’s the only one who could have known.”

Arthur nodded - it definitely made sense - and then hesitated.

“What?”

“Gwen also mentioned that you never actually found out what happened to Freya.”

Merlin nodded, “I don’t even know if it was Camelot.  She just… disappeared. But she had magic.”

“And no one with magic just disappears,” Arthur finished.  “Merlin...” 

Merlin looked up.

“I… I’ll do some digging.  If it  _ was _ Camelot… I’ll tell you everything I can.  And I’ll do my best to protect whoever it is who Halig’s here to inform on.”

Merlin’s eyes widened a little, “Thank you, Arthur.”  

Arthur grinned back, before clearing his throat, “Now, back to work.”

 

Merlin grinned at Gaius as he returned to his post, “Arthur’s going to find out what happened to her!”

“That’s great,” Gaius said, smiling.  Merlin walked over to his monitor.

Gaius took in a nervous breath and ran a hand over his face.

 

*

 

_ “No, no, where I’m pointing, Gwaine,” Gwen giggled, pointing at Freya and Merlin sat at the lone outside table in a cafe. _

_ “Oh, yeah, I see ‘em,” Gwaine said, grinning.  He watched the pair giggle wildly, Freya laying a hand on Merlin’s arm.  Merlin startled a little and Gwaine gave a snort of laughter, “Oh yeah, real smooth, Merls.” _

_ Gwen laughed a little too loudly and the pair looked over: “Oh, nuts.” _

 

_ Merlin stuck up an eloquent finger as Freya covered her face and the would-be spies laughed and ran away. _

*

_ Merlin fiddled irritably with the edge of his sleeve.  Freya smiled at him, rolled her eyes, and kissed his cheek. _

_ “Don’t worry,” she said, taking his hand before he could put a hole in it.  “Either he’ll like you, or I’ll ignore him.” _

_ “Right.”  Merlin tried to smile, “Right.  All good.” _

_ Freya giggled and led him through the door. _

 

_ “And who are you?” Mr Halig demanded the moment Merlin’s foot crossed the threshold. _

_ He swallowed nervously.  There was something off-putting about him, something that put each of his nerves on edge, that he put down to the fact that he was both Freya’s foster father and a head taller than him.  “Merlin Myrddin, sir,” he said, carefully sounding more confident than he felt. _

_ The man grunted and headed towards the kitchen.  “Leave your door open if you go upstairs,” he said gruffly as he went past him. _

 

*

 

“Hampshire, Harvey-”  Arthur sighed as he flicked through files; Merlin was either  _ terrible  _ at filing, or trying to be funny.  “Haitel, ah - Halig.”

He pulled it out and thumped it onto the desk - and it did  _ thump _ , it was  _ heavy _ .  Arthur glared at it, taking out the first paper.   _ Lee, Sara _ stared at him with dull brown eyes, twin tear tracks on her cheeks.  She’d been his foster daughter before he reported her for magic.  _ Merkon, Andrew _ had been his foster before Halig accused him of colluding with remnants of the Dragon Lords.   _ Lionel, Penelope _ , then  _ Norton, Rihanna _ , then  _ Waterfield, Richard. _  On it went, all foster children before they were reported for being or colluding with sorcerers.

Arthur felt a little sick.  He picked up his office phone.

“Uther,” he said as soon as his call was picked up.

“Arthur.”  Uther’s voice was cold.  They hadn’t spoken since Morgause - since what Arthur had done.  Arthur didn’t mind this. Didn’t regret anything of what he did, although now he was calm he was thankful that Merlin had stopped him.  He wasn’t convinced he’d have regretted it, but he’d never had a stable command over Camelot if he began his leadership in the wake of death.

“I don’t suppose,” Arthur said carefully, “that you noticed how every single one of Mr Halig’s ‘sorcerers’ has been one of his foster children.”  He didn’t wait for a response: “I know you pay him for everyone he delivers. Do you ever verify his accusations?”

He could imagine Uther’s pursed lips, the way his nostrils would flare with irritation.  “They are interrogated like everyone else. They confessed to their crimes.”

Arthur scoffed.  “Of course they did - they were  _ children _ .  They’d have said anything to stop that sort of pain.  Especially if they thought they were protecting someone; even Merlin confessed to magic when  _ your  _ Witchfinder threatened his people.”

Uther didn’t bother answering.  He slammed the phone down and Arthur heard the dial tone.  He sneered at the phone and turned back to the files.

 

It took a while to get to  _ Bastet, Freya _ .  An ex-druid from a clan that had been eliminated under Operation Purge.  She’d been put into the system not long after the operation began; that happened to lots of Druidic children who’d not yet shown signs of magic.  Even before they began targeting magic users outside those known to have been involved in the Uprising, there’d been warnings. Panicked people fleeing England, sending their children away.  Uther had been convinced that there was a leak, and now Arthur thought he might’ve been right.

Whoever it was, he was glad for them.  They’d saved so many lives when he’d been too young… too naive… too afraid to do anything.

Anyway.  Freya stayed with Halig longer than any of the other children, studied art at college, and was a model child.  Model citizen. Up until the day Halig called Uther and told him that she was practising spells in her free time.  An operation was planned and, three months later, an assassination mission given to…

Arthur cursed.  Classified.

 

He started digging back through Halig’s file, when a little rectangle fell out, landing face down on the table.   _ Bastet, Freya _ was written on the back in pencil.  Arthur picked it up - perhaps he could show it around the office, find out if anyone knew…

Arthur stared at the photo and let out a little hysterical laugh.  Freya landed on the table and looked accusingly at her.  _ You remember me _ , she said.

And, God, he did.

 

*

 

_ “You’re a grown man now, Arthur,” his father was saying.  “Old enough for a solo mission.” _

_ “I-”  Arthur swallowed.  He  _ was  _ nearly twenty.  His father was right.  Probably. Hopefully. “Of course, sir.” _

_ Uther nodded, satisfied.  He sent Leon out of the room.  (He’d not even asked him to come but Arthur, having never worked without him, had brought him along anyway.)  “The druid camp you and Leon eliminated sent one of its members away. She’s been in the system for years but has been located in a local college.  Here.” He handed Arthur a picture, no name. Arthur  _ was  _ only nineteen, and Uther had learned from experience that if he gave a name, Arthur got attached. _

_ (He was loyal.  He still did his duty.  But he had nightmares later.  Uther heard them through the walls.) _

_ Arthur studied the photo.  A girl, only a little younger than him, with long dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail.  Some light makeup framing a smiling face and sparkling eyes. He dragged his eyes away with some difficulty, tried to forget how  _ happy  _ she seemed.  “Ok. Where do I find her?” _

*

_ “So…  You’ll go out with me on Friday?” _

_ Freya smiled and kissed Merlin’s cheek, “When have I ever said no?” _

_ Merlin grinned and his ears flushed a little.  “True. Same place as usual?” _

_ “Yeah.”  Freya smiled, “I’ll see you there?” _

_ “Yeah, sounds good.” _

_ Freya kissed him on the lips and then laughed at the not-entirely put on dazed look Merlin wore. _

*

_ “I don’t know why you insist on coming ‘round before every date, Gwaine,” Merlin sighed, sitting on his bed. _

_ “Because, Merls,” Gwaine said mildly, picking through Merlin’s wardrobe, “you’re hopeless alone.” _

_ “I am not,” Merlin said, pouting.  His phone chimed - Gwen was texting.  A picture of Freya appeared on his screen, looking a little shy, and his pout melted away into a little sigh. _

_ Gwaine smiled knowingly at Merlin’s jeans, “Freya?” _

_ “In a pretty dress,” Merlin said happily.  “She’s so beautiful.” _

_ “Well,” Gwaine tossed a shirt and jeans at Merlin’s head, “better make sure you don’t show her up, eh?” _

*

_ The dark haired girl - no, no, don’t personalise her,  _ target  _ \- walked out of the door of her foster father’s home.  Her dark blue dress floated a little, just below her knees, and a curly haired girl gave it a little straightening tug, kissed her cheek, and waved her off. _

_ Arthur ignored the tug of guilt at his stomach as he waited for the girl to go back inside and then began to follow the  _ ~~_ other girl _ ~~ _ target. _

 

_ The target clutched a handbag and walked slightly faster than everyone else on the street but, when Arthur caught a glance of her face, he saw that she wasn’t afraid.  She was just a quick walker. Or perhaps she was running late. He shook his head and set his jaw - there was no sense in making a story for her, it’d just make it harder for him to do his duty. _

_ He’d done this to the druids he’d been sent to… deal with.  With Leon. He’d seen the tents, the wooden huts, and wondered who lived in them.  If there was a system for who lived where. Whether they kept their families with them, or if they were - God forbid - more like the Pendragons, who couldn’t seem to do anything but push family away.  Wondered if they played the same games he’d played as a boy, with sticks and stones and plastic fly-away footballs. _

_ He’d hesitated when the time had come.   _ Screamed _ for his men to spare the women, the children - he knew they ignored him.  They had their orders from Uther. The screams had echoed in the air, ringing in his ears, and now when he slept, his own mingled with them. _

 

_ He shook his head, like that would clear it of thoughts.  He carried on following the target until she walked into a copse, the trees close enough that it’d be almost impossible to hear anything.  Especially at this time of night. _

_ He swallowed thickly and screwed the silencer to his gun.  He knew it wouldn’t be silent, but perhaps it’d help. They couldn’t prosecute if he was caught, but his father would be disappointed, and he couldn’t…  Not on top of everything else. _

*

_ Merlin reached the restaurant and asked to be seated on the outside table, the one Freya liked because she could smell the fresh air and the flowers that sometimes bloomed through the hedge.  He declined to order anything, preferring to wait for Freya. _

_ It was unusual for him to beat Freya there, but not unheard of.  Sometimes Gwen lost track of time gushing over her, or Mr Halig made her do her chores before she left. _

 

_ After twenty minutes, there was an awful sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. _

*

_ The moment he’d fired, Arthur knew he’d made a mistake. _

_ The target - no, no, the  _ girl _ \- coughed a moment, standing still in shock.  Arthur dropped the gun and leapt from his hiding place. _

_ When she started to fall, he was there to catch her, lower her gently to the ground, and then cradle her in his arms. _

_ “Arthur Pendragon,” she said, and she might have been angry, might have been heartbroken, but her voice was so quiet, so weak…  Arthur couldn’t tell. _

_ “I’m sorry,” he said, voice thick, tears starting to spill over, racing down his cheeks.  “I’m so sorry.” _

_ She smiled blearily at him, eyes unseeing, “I know you are.  We’ve done this before, and you’re always sorry when you realise what you’ve done.  Though it was a long time before you did, last time.” _

_ Arthur closed his eyes - she was already delirious.  He let go of her for a moment, ripped off his jacket and scrunched it into a ball, pressing it firmly against the wound.  “Just hang on,” he said. “Just hang on. I’m going to fix this.” _

*

_ The nausea in the pit of Merlin’s stomach had multiplied, tugging at him so that he thought he might really be sick.  He pulled out his phone and dialled Gwen’s number with shaking fingers. _

_ “Hey, Merlin,” she said cheerfully through the phone, “what’s up?” _

_ Merlin swallowed against his nerves and twisted a shaking hand into the pocket of his coat, “Is Freya with you?  Has she set off yet?” _

_ “What?”  There was panic in Gwen’s voice, and Merlin felt his lungs constrict.  “No, no, she left for the restaurant a while ago. She should have arrived, like, half an hour ago.  What’s happened?” _

_ Merlin sucked in a breath, tried to calm himself.  “I don’t know. You call her, I’ll call Gwaine and Gaius.” _

*

_ The girl put a hand over Arthur’s where he was pressing on the wound, “No, no, this is my time.  This all the goddess allowed me when we bargained. I am not his destiny.” She smiled weakly and then coughed.  A little blood spilt over the corner of her mouth and Arthur gasped, before wiping it away. He’d never been up close to someone dying, before.  Leon always sent him away. _

_ “I’m sorry,” he said again, and she said again: _

_ “I know.” _

_ “Is there anything I can do?” _

_ “A proper burial, please,” she whispered, blood still spreading over her blue dress.  Arthur nodded - that was a given. “And… tell…” She coughed again and Arthur leaned over, put his ear almost to her mouth, so he could hear her last words. _

 

_ When she’d told them, she sighed, as if she was contented, now, with life, and closed her eyes.  Her breaths slowed to nothing and Arthur strangled back a sob, knowing he didn’t deserve to cry for her.  He closed her eyes, hands gentle, and covered the wound with some flowers. She almost looked asleep. _

_ Then, he took her in her arms and carried her to a lake at the edge of the copse, placing her on a small raft some kids had probably built.  His lighter easily started the edge of the dry wood burning, before he pushed her out towards the middle of the lake. _

_ He kept watching until was consumed with orange flames reflected in the black depths of the water, before going, red-eyed and bloody-handed, to report to his father. _

 

*

 

Arthur swallowed, calmed his ragged breathing.  There was no use in crying at his desk, where someone could see and tell Uther.  He picked up his phone.

 

_To:_ _Emrys_

_ Meet me outside.  I _ _   
_ _ know where Freya is. _

 

Arthur walked Merlin through the copse, to the lake, holding his hand even though he knew he didn’t have that right.  “She…” he swallowed. “The agent gave her a proper druidic burial on the lake. As properly as he could remember the ceremony.”

His stomach burned with guilt.

“That’s good,” Merlin whispered.  He squeezed Arthur’s hand and then dropped it, walking to the edge of the lake.

 

“Look Freya,” Merlin whispered, smiling a little even as his throat burned.  “A lake, and some flowers… I can’t see any mountains, I’m afraid, but I’m sure there are some where you are, now.  Avalon… I hope there are mountains there, for you.” He hesitated, not sure what to say. “I… I don’t know what you’d think of me, right now.  I mean… I didn’t mean to stay at Camelot as long as I did. Didn’t mean to work there at all. And I…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “I definitely didn’t mean to start dating the son of the man who ordered you killed.”

He sat down, plucking a pink flower and turning it over and over in his fingers.  He looked at that instead of his own, lone reflection in the black water. “But I think…  I hope… Maybe you’d be proud of me? I found a purpose for my magic, and I helped convince a Pendragon that magic can be used for good…  One day, Freya, it’ll be different. Arthur’s gonna change things. It’ll be like we dreamed when we planned our future. Sorcerers will be safe… able to do their magic freely, like you should’ve been allowed to.  The druids will be allowed their peace, I swear… And soon you’ll be able to look in on us, every once in a while, and me and Gwen, and maybe Gwaine if he’s stopped being so fond of boozing - wherever he is right now - and we’ll be doing great.

“Like Gwen, you’ll never believe it, but there’s finally a man good enough for her!  Our perfect, amazing Gwen has Lancelot, who’s nearly as brill as her. Nearly. I reckon they’ll get married, one day, but they’ve not said anything yet, so we’ll have to see.  Erm…” He paused. Freya used to love getting the latest news (read: gossip), so that was what he was going to give her. Only, he didn’t know as much as he did in college. “Gaius still does his eyebrow thing.  That’s why he can ground his nearly adult nephew…” He grinned a little, abashed: “You’d laugh at me, I think, and agree with him. But I don’t know. Because,” he felt his voice break a little, and he choked back a sob, “you’re not here.  And I miss you. Gods, I miss you so much.”

 

Arthur hesitated a moment when he saw Merlin start to cry, because it was his fault, even if Merlin didn’t know that.  (He would tell him, at some point. He  _ would _ .)  But then he started towards him, because even if Merlin wouldn’t care for him when he knew what he’d done, Arthur cared for  _ him _ , and that meant not leaving him to cry alone.

He sat next to Merlin, watching the lake ripple a little, and wrapped an arm around his waist.  Merlin sniffed a little and rested his head on his shoulder. “It was so long ago,” Merlin murmured.  “I know I should be over it, but…”

“There’s no limit on how long you’re supposed to grieve for,” Arthur said, just as quietly.  “Especially when you didn’t have closure.”

Merlin sniffed again and wiped his eyes on his sleeves.

“The agent,” Arthur started, meaning himself.  “The agent regretted it, the moment he’d done it.  He tried to save her.”

“Oh,” Merlin sounded a little blank.  Empty, almost.

“And he took down… what she said.  At the end. She said: ‘Tell Merlin, he made me feel loved.’  She didn’t want you to not know what you meant to her.”

 

Merlin smiled a little when Arthur told him what Freya had said.  That was, after all, just like her. Always thinking of other people, even when, really, she shouldn’t have been.  He almost said as much, before a sense of dawning horror started whispering suspiciously in the back of his mind.

“Arthur,” he said slowly.  He felt sick and shoved the arm from around his waist.

“Merlin?”  Arthur looked nervous, and a little surprised, maybe, but not shocked.  Not like he didn’t know what Merlin was thinking.

Merlin wanted to cry, again.  “Arthur, that’s not the sort of thing they put in files.”  He laughed a little, hysterically: “No one  _ cares  _ how sorcerers and druids are buried, or what their last words were.”  He took a shaky breath, told himself he could be jumping to conclusions, even though nothing of what he was saying made Arthur look stunned.  “Arthur,” he said quietly, “just… please tell me… please tell me you didn’t…”

Arthur bowed his head, and Merlin thought he could maybe hear the snap of his own heart.

“Oh, Arthur.”  It rushed out, like a gust of air.  It felt like a punch to the stomach.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said, and it sounded like he meant it.  “God, I’m so sorry. I should never have-”

“No,” Merlin cut him off.  His voice sounded cruel, even to himself, “You shouldn’t have.  Gods above- all this time, Arthur, and you were the one who… I  _ loved  _ her, and you killed her.  And you didn’t even  _ tell _ me!”

“I didn’t know,” Arthur croaked, swallowing furiously.  “My father- Uther didn’t ever tell me the names, because…” he shook his head.  “I didn’t know who she was until I saw her picture, or I would have told you before.  I swear.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut.  “I should have known,” he said, more to himself than Arthur.  “I should have known.”

“Merlin-”  Arthur made a move like he’d touch Merlin’s arm.

“No.”  Merlin lifted a hand and Arthur froze, arm suspended halfway en route before he withdrew.  Merlin swallowed; he didn’t want to cry, not now. Not right now. “I… I have to go.”

He walked away.  Arthur watched him go, stood at the shore of the lake, and didn’t even try to keep the tears from falling.

 

Merlin didn’t go back to work.  He called in sick and then lay in bed, eyes burning with no more tears to cry, staring blankly at the ceiling.  He twisted his fingers into the duvet and tried not to think about anything. About Freya. About Arthur. About anything.

“Merlin?”  Gaius walked in, and Merlin could hear the little, distressed noise when he saw the state of him.  He tried for a smile, but he felt it twist before he gave up. Gaius walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the hair put askew by Merlin running his hands through it.  “I’m sorry.”

Merlin gulped, not even asking how he knew what had happened, suddenly finding another well of tears.  “It was  _ Arthur _ .  All this time…  It was him.” He looked beseechingly at Gaius: “Did you know?”

“No.”  Gaius kept smoothing hair, “I had suspicions, but I had them about all the agents Uther trusted at the time.”

“He said he tried to save her, “ Merlin whispered.  Gaius closed his eyes, just for a moment, and then opened his arms.  Merlin sat and retreated into them, letting out one wet sob as Gaius enveloped him. 

“I’m sorry, Merlin, truly.”

“And the worst thing,” Merlin said into Gaius’ shoulder, “is that I can’t… I can’t  _ hate  _ him.  I should - everything he’s done…  I just can’t.”

Gaius squeezed him tighter, and Merlin thought:  _ I can’t hate him, because I still love him. _

 

The first thing Arthur did when he got back to work, was go to Gaius.  He pulled him aside and told him everything, and that he was sorry, and would he please go to Merlin because he didn’t think he should be alone, right now.

Gaius didn’t even look angry.  Just… tired. Exhausted. He sagged a little like some inner support had snapped.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur had said.

And Gaius had closed his eyes and pulled Arthur into a hug, one hand on the back of his neck to pull him to his height.  “I know,” he said, sounding so  _ old _ .  “And so does he, even if he wants to pretend he doesn’t.”

Arthur nodded, voice too thick to answer.  Gaius didn’t quite smile, and then left, presumably to go to Merlin.

 

Next, he went to Guinevere.  Told her the same thing - she was Freya’s friend, too.

She slapped him.  Hard.

He didn’t complain.  Didn’t flinch. Just let her, hearing the harsh slap of flesh on flesh before it started to sting.  “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Guinevere hissed, glaring at him.  “Have you told Merlin?”

Arthur hesitated a moment: “I didn’t have the chance.  He figured it out before I could. Gaius is with him.”

Guinevere looked ready to hit him again, to add a matching red handprint to his other cheek.  “I can’t believe… You better have a plan to fix this, Arthur Pendragon.”

“I-”

Guinevere cut him off, “I don’t want to hear it.  I want you to do it. You’ve broken his heart twice now - if you don’t fix it...” she trailed off threateningly.

“I can’t make it right.  But I can make it better.”

She nodded, something in her face softening, just a little.  Clearly, that answer was - if not good enough - close to good.  “Good.” She straightened her skirt a little, then looked at him seriously.  “Whatever you are to Merlin… I don’t think he knows how to hate you. I think you can fix that, even if you can’t fix the rest.”  She glared again, pointing a finger almost in his face, “See that you do.”

Arthur opened his mouth to say... something - he wasn’t sure what, exactly - but she was already walking away.  He closed it again and pulled out his phone.

 

_To:_ _Leon_

_ Cover for me if Uther _ __   
_ asks where I am.  I _ _   
_ __ need to go see Halig.

 

Arthur pounded on the door to Halig’s home.  Halig opened almost immediately, dressed only in a stained vest and unironed work trousers.

“Agent Pendragon,” he said, blanching a little.  Maybe there was something in Arthur’s face that told him what was coming.  “What can I do for you?”

Arthur pushed past him, into the living room.  Halig closed the door and followed.

“Sit,” Arthur said.  Halig obeyed instantly.  Arthur shed his jacket, leaving his gun visible in its holster and began to pace the room.  “Do you know why I’m here?”

“No,” Halig blustered, “not unless Uther sent you for more information on the girl.  That, of course, I’d be happy to give you.”

Arthur almost snarled before smoothing his expression.  “That’s exactly what I’m here for,” he said. “I want to know if she’s really what you say she is.”

“Of course she is,” Halig laughed weakly.  “Why would I lie?”

“For the finder’s fee?” Arthur suggested.  “That’s why  _ I  _ think you’re lying.  I think that after you gave up the first child, you thought maybe you’d found a good source of income.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Uther gave you extra, under the table. For loyalty?” He watched Halig’s face and added ironically, “To ease the pain of losing a child?”

He saw the flicker, the flinch that meant he was right.  He nodded, expression grim.

“Tell me the truth, Halig, and know that your life depends on it.  Does the girl have magic?”

Halig hesitated.  Arthur stalked forwards, looming over him.  Halig broke: “No, no, she doesn’t.”

 

Arthur took the voice recorder from his pocket and turned it off.  “Thank you. I’ll make sure the girl goes free.”

Halig scowled, but Arthur wasn’t done with him.  Not yet. He took a seat on the coffee table in front of the couch.  When he spoke, his voice was deceptively friendly. “You know, Mr Halig, there’s something I think you should know about Camelot.”

“Oh?”  Halig was starting to sweat.  Arthur could smell it, even from where he was sat.

“Uther doesn’t tell the agents what to do, very often.  They answer to me. Some of them, I grew up with. They follow my orders without question, and they haven’t once failed me.”

“Oh,” Halig said again.  He was white as a sheet now, and little beads of moisture were starting to dribble down his forehead.

“So,” Arthur continued, “if I was to hear something about you that I didn’t like - say you, oh, I don’t know, tried to foster another child, or thought about reporting another person for magic - they wouldn’t even blink at the idea of coming and…” he smiled and added delicately, “stopping you.”

Halig sat in mute terror and Arthur felt a little flash of cruel satisfaction.

“Rest assured, I would find out if you did something I don’t like.  I know many people in high places and even more know me. You can’t hide  _ anything _ from me, if I decide you can’t, so don’t even think about trying.  Do you understand?”

Halig nodded vigorously.

“Good.”  Arthur stood.  “It’s only because it’d raise awkward questions with Uther that you are not dead on that couch, Halig.  I’d watch your back from now on.” He didn’t wait to see what Halig said next. He stood and left, slamming the front door as he did.

 

Uther turned a lovely puce when he heard Halig admit to lying.  Arthur knew it was more the fact that he’d have to imprison his best informant than anything else, but he still took a sort of grim pride in it as he took his leave.

 

_ To Merlin, _

_ Halig’s been jailed for lying about his most recent charge.  I know it’s not for Freya, but I hope you have some closure now. _

_ \- Arthur _

 

He sent the note via Gaius the next day and the day after that, it came back.

 

_ To  _ ~~_ Merlin _ ~~ _ , Emrys _

_ Halig’s been jailed for lying about his most recent charge.  I know it’s not for Freya, but I hope you have some closure now. _

_ -  ~~Arthur~~ _ _ Prince _

_ (Thank you.) _

 

Arthur smiled at it and thought that, maybe, he hadn’t lost everything, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I really struggled with this chapter - fluff is ~not~ my thing - and I know it was perhaps a little flashback-heavy, so any feedback or possible improvements that I can use in future fluffy bits would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> -Phoneix


	7. Chapter 6 - Operation Truth Teller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This one was a little difficult, so any feedback would be appreciated :)  
> Thanks! xx

_ Merlin, Leon, Kay, Gaius, Guinevere, Lancelot, Morgana _ …  

Arthur listed names in his head - not on paper, because he wasn’t, despite what some of his recent predicaments suggested, completely stupid - and told himself that, when it came to it, he could trust them.  When he removed Uther, he could trust them not to betray him, to help make the transition smoothly. Leon and Kay were well known and well trusted amongst the other agents; could they turn them to his side? If not, could Morgana browbeat them into submission?  Was submission good enough? 

_ No. _

Arthur shook his head, berating himself; if there was merely submission, rather than support, he could never be certain that the agents were really on his side, that they weren’t doing as he was, now, plotting against him.  He needed loyalty and friendship to ensure that they followed willingly.

 

He groaned and rested his head in his hands, pushing the thoughts from his mind.  Even if he had a complete plan, he’d never do it without Merlin, and even though Merlin had given him a little hope after Halig was tried and imprisoned, it had diminished over the week Merlin took off as he refused to answer his phone to Arthur.  Arthur had resorted to texting Guinevere a billion times, each text a variation of one question:  _ how’s Merlin holding up? _

To her credit, she answered every time.

Hopefully, though, he wouldn’t have to do that anymore.  Merlin was coming back to work today, just for the afternoon, and would have to be near Arthur at some point, because all the leaders of anti-magic organisations in all the countries that had them (and a few that didn’t; not officially, anyway) were meeting in Camelot to come to an agreement to sharing the information they held on magic.  Both he and Merlin were expected in the meeting, so they’d  _ have  _ to meet up.

Arthur felt a little guilty.  Like he was manipulating him. Maybe he was.

He went to Uther’s office.  He had to greet the visitors with him.   _ Present a united front _ , he reminded himself.  That was what Uther said.

 

He was already late when he got there.  Senator Alined and Mr Trickler - his secretary, apparently - had already arrived from America, and Mr Olaf and his daughter, Vivian, had arrived from Russia.  The anti-magic laws - official, like Russia, or unofficial, like England - were the only thing that the East and West really agreed on. Relations between Olaf and Uther were practically amiable.

“Ah, Arthur,” Uther said, smiling.  Arthur didn’t like it. “Why don’t you show Miss Vivian to her room.  Have Morgana’s secretary - Miss Smith - help get her settled in.”

Arthur nodded.  “This way,” he told her, gesturing to the door.

She nodded and followed silently.

“Guinevere,” he said when he spotted her, “this is Vivian.  Uther asked that we show her to her room.” He looked at Vivian and smiled, “This is Guinevere-”

“- or Gwen,” Guinevere added.

“-and she’ll help you get settled.  She’s one of our finest employees.”

Vivian giggled, “Then I fear for Camelot.”

Arthur blinked, resisted scowling.  He looked at Guinevere who raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

“Well,” he said awkwardly, “this is your room.  I hope everything is to your satisfaction.”

She poked her head into the room and then looked back at them.  “It is… adequate.”

“Right, well, most of our guests are perfectly content.”

“Well,” she said, “I am not most of your guests.”

“In-deed,” he said, drawing it out.  He cleared his throat, “Well, I have to go prepare for the meeting.  Guinevere, are you alright to stay?”

“Don’t bother,” Vivian said, waving a hand.  “I doubt it would make any difference.”

She closed the door behind herself.  Arthur and Guinevere exchanged a look and tried not to burst into laughter.  They managed to reduce the explosion to snorts, before hurrying to their respective duties.

 

Merlin stood stiffly beside Arthur, in his office, waiting for Uther to call him into the meeting.  The silence was awful and palpable, and neither of them was quite willing to break it.

“Nervous?” Merlin asked finally, deciding that Arthur was probably waiting for him to make the first move.

Arthur shrugged, but Merlin spotted a little glimmer of excitement in his eye.  Arthur had been waiting for him to reach out for a week according to Gwen and, to be honest, it had been a struggle not to.  He’d missed him, even when he tried not to, and he couldn’t help but think; wouldn’t Freya want him to be happy? Would she want him to cut him off?

He still wasn’t sure, but he had to believe that she’d support him.  (Or maybe he was just being purposely obtuse.)

“Maybe a little,” Arthur conceded, drawing Merlin’s attention back to him.  “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been picking at your sleeve for the last twenty minutes.  You’ll put a hole in it if you’re not careful. They’ll think we have moths.”

Arthur laughed; it was louder than was perhaps expected, for the quality of the joke, but there was relief there, too.  “There are five different heads of departments from their respective countries in there. I think I’m allowed to be a little nervous, don’t you?”

Merlin nodded.  More silence filled the room.  Merlin closed his eyes for a moment and then smiled, “You’ll be fine.  I know you will.”

Arthur blinked as if he was surprised.  “Thank you.”

 

Arthur wasn’t expected - or meant - to speak at the first meeting.  He was just meant to sit there, beside a tired looking Merlin, keep his mouth shut and listen to people older and apparently wiser than him as they hammered out deals and plans and arguments, all to share information on magic that they could probably get on the internet, if they looked in the right places.

Maybe this was just Uther’s way of maintaining his political clout.  Summoning them all to his kingdom and making them bow to his rules, his desires.  This was his way of showing his strength, proving that his way was right, even as his son started to defy him - even if he insisted on being blind to his son starting to defy him.

He let himself lose concentration, staring blindly at a spot on the wall, eyes drifting in and out of focus.  He occasionally looked to Merlin when something particularly stupid penetrated his zone of zoning out, and sometimes managed to nod at the right times when his father was watching him.

It was only when Mr Trickler tripped behind him, carrying water, arms flailing against Arthur’s head, that he snapped back into focus.

“My apologies, Agent Pendragon, sir,” Mr Trickler said, looking far too nervous for someone who’d just spilt a bit of water.

“No harm done,” he said, smiling briefly.  “Go sit, I’ll take care of this and fetch some water - I’m hardly needed here, with my father here, too.”

Uther looked a little like he might protest, but his mantra of  _ united front _ prevented him.  He just waved his hand dismissively and carried on talking to Olaf about… something Arthur wasn’t listening to.  They really  _ were  _ good friends.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said under his breath.  “We don’t need to be here any longer.”

 

And that was true after Arthur finished playing maid.

 

Merlin left with only a quiet goodbye and Arthur grimaced, gritting his teeth.  He’d wanted to make progress today - he’d have done  _ anything _ to have Merlin just…  _ look _ at him, like they were friends, rather than coworkers.  He’d have sold his soul for him to look at him like he had before they learned about Freya, but he knew that’d be slow in coming.  If it ever came.

He rubbed at his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, warding off the headache starting to form.  Clearly, all this stress wasn’t good for him. He needed sleep, he decided, and with that set off home, a lot earlier than he was probably meant to.

 

Merlin had to come in for a full day, the next day, and went straight to Arthur’s office, knowing that most of his day would be spent in the same meeting as him.  Arthur beamed at him when he came in and, without really noticing, he beamed back. When he  _ did  _ notice, it dimmed a little, though Arthur’s didn’t.

“ _ Merlin _ ,” Arthur breathed, “God, it’s good to see you.  I mean - it’s always good to see you, but  _ especially _ good today.”

Merlin frowned a little, “Why’s that?”

“Vivian’s a complete cow.”

A startled little laugh - almost a huff of air - escaped Merlin.  “Yeah, Gwen mentioned yesterday that she was… interesting.”

“She caught me this morning to complain about the food in the cafe, the size of the bathroom in her accommodation-”

“There are bathrooms in those?”

“Only in the one she’s in.  And she complained about Guinevere not coming to help her, even though it was  _ she  _ who insulted her and sent her away.  I should have told her that Morgana needed her, but I couldn’t help myself - I told her she was so unpleasant that I couldn’t bring myself to force Guinevere to help her.”

“What?” Merlin asked, a little amused, mostly confused.  Arthur was almost never so indiscreet as to tell people what he really thought of them.  Maybe the stress of the visit had driven him mad.

“I know,” Arthur groaned.  “It was a mistake.”

Merlin hummed in acknowledgement and then started fiddling with his tie in the reflection of a window.

“Do you need a hand?”

Merlin thought of Arthur being so close and shivered a little - in anticipation or displeasure, he didn’t know.  “No, I don’t.”

“Oh.  Ok.” Arthur’s almost manic happiness - or hysteria - faded away to nothing, leaving him almost morose.  There was a moment of silence before he burst out: “I know I hurt you, Merlin, and I am  _ so _ sorry.”

“I know,” Merlin said, voice almost a whisper.  “I just need time.”

“I…”  Arthur swallowed, “I think I understand.  I’m just not sure what to do with myself when you’re not by my side.”

Merlin stared at him and Arthur blushed beet red, looking as surprised as Merlin felt.  Almost like… almost like he hadn’t meant to say that.

It was definite - the pressure of the visit was getting to him.

 

It was a relief to leave for the meeting.  Arthur had only just finished blushing, and they’d both been standing in silence, trying to avoid any more embarrassing displays of emotion right before public appearances.  They took their seats quietly, Arthur not looking at Merlin, Merlin not looking at anyone.

“Ah, Arthur,” Uther said, grinning down from the top of the table.  “We were just talking about you.”

“Were you?”  Arthur sounded half-interested and half-nervous like he worried about what his father might have to say about him.  Merlin felt a small flush of guilt, mixed with a confusing amount of pride; if it wasn’t for him and Morgana working to make Arthur accept magic, he’d never have worried about what his father said.

“Yes,” Olaf boomed from Uther’s side.  “I was just commenting on how well you and my daughter Vivian seem to be getting along.”

Merlin felt like laughing. 

Arthur  _ did _ laugh: “Then you must be blind, sir, because your daughter has done nothing but offend myself and Camelot’s staff, and I have done nothing but displease her.”

The guests laughed awkwardly, but Merlin stared at him.  Arthur was never like this - he was never so honest. This went way beyond nerves; there was a difference between honesty to Merlin and honesty to  _ everyone _ .  Something was wrong, and Merlin had to find out what.

(Could you believe it?  It was almost back to normal already.)

 

The meeting droned on and on, but Merlin couldn’t zone out, not today.  Arthur was offering opinions - no, worse,  _ honest  _ opinions.  Calling people out on how illogical their ideas were, and telling them where on the internet they could find the information they were trying to trade with.  Uther had gone from red to white to grey at an alarming speed and, finally, Merlin couldn’t take anymore.

Plus, he had a sinking feeling in his gut that told him what was going on.

“Director Pendragon, sir,” he said, flushing as everyone’s attention was drawn to him.  “I’m so sorry, I forgot to mention, but Gaius - I mean, Mr Myrddin - wants myself and Agent Pendragon to go and test a… a… new camera system!”  He blushed a little deeper as Senator Alined raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that was it, a new camera. Er, may we…?”

Uther looked at him like he was almost…  _ thankful _ .  Maybe even like he  _ didn’t  _ think Merlin was an idiot, which was a new and distressing feeling.  “Yes, Myrddin, go ahead,” he said weakly.

“Merlin, we don’t-”

“Yes, we do,” Merlin said sharply, cutting Arthur off and grabbing his arm to drag him out of the room.

 

“We don’t have a camera system to test,” Arthur finished when he could.

“You’re right, we don’t, but you were embarrassing yourself and I needed to get us out of here.  Now,” he looked sternly at Arthur, and then grabbed his phone out of his pocket to text Gaius to meet them in the medical room  _ immediately _ , “not another word.”

 

Merlin shoved Arthur onto the medical table and knocked out the camera with a wave of magic - and gods, he felt like he did that a lot.  “Arthur,” he said sternly, “I think you’ve been enchanted. Don’t say a word unless you absolutely have to.”

“Enchanted?”  Arthur didn’t seem as surprised as maybe he should have.  Maybe he’d already expected it, or maybe it just happened so often that he was used to it.

“Yes,” Merlin said briskly, going to the cupboard to grab down Gaius’  _ special  _ books, which had covers enchanted to look like the dullest anatomy books ever written.  “A truth spell, I’d guess. Unless it’s a rudeness spell.”

Arthur was silent a moment, lips pursed like he was thinking hard.  Merlin looked over, more than a little anxious. Finally, he broke the silence: “So, hypothetically speaking, you’d believe me if I said that I love you and would do anything to make up for what happened to Freya.”

“I…”  Merlin swallowed, mouth feeling dry and his voice surprisingly croaky.  His stomach swooped with nerves - or something else. “Yeah. I… Yeah.”  He cleared his throat, “I probably would.”

 

Thankfully, Arthur was kept from saying anything more from Gaius’ arrival and Merlin slapping a hand over his mouth.

Gaius raised an eyebrow when he noticed, “What’s wrong, Merlin?”

“Arthur got himself enchanted.  I’m thinking truth spell.”

“I see.  And that’s why you’re keeping him quiet.”

“Exactly,” Merlin said.  He took the hand away and glared at Arthur to ensure further silence.  “He embarrassed himself in front of the meeting. Insulted  _ all _ of them, and Vivian.”

“Vivian?”

“She deserved it,” Arthur said stubbornly, “she’s awful.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” Merlin sighed.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, smirking a little, “Are you giving me orders?”

Gaius looked at the pair like he thought…  Merlin didn’t even know what Gaius thought.  He scowled at Arthur, “ _ Shut up _ .”

Gaius shook his head and started flicking through books, “If Arthur keeps on insulting Vivian, Olaf will be furious.  The summit will be ruined - and then Uther will be furious.”

“So we have to break the enchantment,” Merlin summarised.  “Or Arthur has to start liking Vivian.”

Arthur snorted, “Maybe if she gets a personality transplant.”

Gaius rolled his eyes.  Merlin ignored him: “What’s the plan, then?”

“I look for a counter-spell whilst you and Arthur attend to whatever duties you have when not in the meeting.”

“What?  No - can’t we say he’s ill or something?”

“I am here, you know,” Arthur said, a little sulkily.  “I don’t appreciate you talking about me like I’m not.”

“No, you have to carry on as normal or Uther will suspect something, and that really would be a disaster,” Gaius said, disregarding Arthur to look sternly at Merlin.  “You have to keep him from saying anything to derail the summit.”

Merlin looked to Arthur, who shrugged sheepishly, and then back to Gaius.  “Great. Not a problem.”

 

Arthur’s office seemed a good place to go first, to work out what they could do without risking the ruination of the summit and Arthur’s reputation.  Merlin shut the door behind them and then sighed loudly, “Who’d have thought honesty could be such a problem.”

Shrugging noncommittally, Arthur took a seat.  “We’re like a… a Medieval court.”

Merlin blinked.  “Right.”

“We run on secrets, lies, and plausible deniability,” he said, matter-of-factly, before smirking a little.  “I’d be surprised if half the people here remembered what the truth sounds like.”

“Huh.”  Merlin thought on that for a moment and then nodded, accepting it.  “Anyway. How are we going to keep you from blurting out what you think about everything?”

“No idea.  You’ll find a way, I’m sure.  I mean, you’re the s-”

Merlin clapped a hand over his mouth, again.  “By the Gods, Arthur, don’t go blurting  _ that  _ out.  Not even if the cams are out.  You’ll get us  _ both _ killed.”

Arthur nodded, and Merlin released his hand.  “Sorry, Merlin.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin sighed.  They really needed to figure something out - he couldn’t cover Arthur’s mouth in front of other people.  “Do you need to say everything that crosses your mind? Or is it just when you’re asked a question? And when you know what you’re going to say, can you moderate?”

Arthur shrugged.  Then he thought a little: “When I stay quiet, I don’t have to tell the truth, but when I start talking, I have to finish the whole true thought.  And it’s very hard to stay quiet - it’s like… I’m being compelled to speak.”

“Ok.”  Merlin thought a little, but it wasn’t like he knew any spells.  “Ok. I’m sure Gaius will find the counter. Let’s just… get to work.  And don’t you speak unless absolutely necessary. Let me do the talking, yeah?”

Arthur looked positively miserable but nodded.  Merlin  _ hated  _ that and rubbed a hand over a face.  “Come on. Gaius really has been walking on a new body cam system.  Ones that won’t get knocked out quite so easily. We can go test it, and no one will bother us.”

 

After a brief stop to collect a tote bag of cameras, they headed to the sparring room.  None of the agents would be in there at this time, so they’d be free to do as they liked.  Merlin could throw some magic at it, and Arthur could shoot at it, and they’d see how well it lasted.  It’d be fun, and Arthur wouldn’t have to talk to anyone but Merlin.

It was a foolproof plan, which was why Vivian was, naturally, walking towards them.

“Oh, no.”  Merlin grabbed Arthur by the hand and tugged him the other way, only to see Uther and Olaf coming towards them in  _ that  _ direction.  “Oh,  _ no _ .”  He dragged him into a corner.  “I’m sorry about this, but I have to.”  

“What?”

Merlin took advantage of Arthur’s confused state and spelled him silent.  Arthur looked betrayed. 

Merlin turned away, “You’d never have agreed, and we can’t risk it.  I’m sorry. Now, come on.”

He lead the way to the sparring room, Arthur glaring daggers at the back of his head as he followed.

Thankfully, no one stopped them.

 

Merlin waited for Arthur then locked the door behind them and released the spell.

“I can’t believe you-  You could have  _ asked _ .”

“Would you have agreed?  Or would you have said it was too dangerous with Uther around the corner.”

“I…”  Arthur scowled, “I don’t know.  But you should have tried.”

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath.  “I know. I’m sorry - I just… panicked. I’ve been a little… stressed recently.”

Arthur visibly softened.  Merlin shook his head to clear it: “I don’t know why I’m working so hard to protect this summit - I don’t exactly want them sharing information on magic - but if Uther doesn’t get what he wants…  How much influence does your father actually  _ have _ over the Prime Minister?”

“More than he should.  They’re old school buddies, and - worse - the minister’s terrified of magic.  If Uther asked for sanctions to force the others into handing over what they know, he’d find an excuse.”

Merlin nodded solemnly.  Then he pulled a camera out from the bag and set it up on a stand.  He told it to start recording and broadcasting to his laptop, which he put behind a plastic blast screen on a slightly wobbly table.  Then he looked at Arthur and grinned, “Have at it. Behind the shield. Standard drill - don’t get hurt, don’t make  _ me  _ hurt you.”

Arthur hesitated as he put on the ear protectors.  “Why do you say that? We both know I know more about guns than you.”

Merlin shrugged.  Because he didn’t like seeing Arthur get hurt - because the image of Arthur lying in a bed  _ dying _ still haunted him - that was why.  But he wasn’t going to say that. “Just feel like it,” he said instead.  “Does it bother you?”

“No,” Arthur said, before putting on the ear guards and taking aim.

 

After a few rounds, and a few bursts of magic to see how it affected the picture, they took a break.  Merlin produced a bottle of water each from the bag - because Gaius was a  _ wonder _ \- and they sat together on some mats people hadn’t bothered to put away yet.

“Better than the last version,” Merlin said lightly, just to make conversation.  The iced water leached some of the heat of residual magic and ongoing nerves from his hands.

Arthur sighed, “Merlin… Even if we can never be… as we were, you’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose that.  I don’t want to be… casual acquaintances making conversation about weather and cameras. If there’s anything I can do to make us better again, would you tell me?”

Merlin blinked.  “Arthur- I still…”  He cleared his throat, “You’re still my best friend, too, and it’s not that you need to prove yourself.  I know you’re not the person you were then. You can’t make us better because… it’s on me.”

“Merlin, none of this is your fault.”

“No, Arthur, it’s more…  I’ve spent a long time being furious at a faceless person and the fact that it’s  _ you _ , who I can’t stay angry at, because…”  He trailed off and shook his head. “I feel like… I’m betraying her, somehow.  Being here - being with you - when she died because…” He sniffed and blinked furiously against tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Arthur hesitated a moment and then opened his arms, a clear but silent invitation.  Merlin accepted, burying his face in his shoulder and trying not to cry as Arthur gently rubbed circles on his back.  He squeezed his eyes shut and snaked his arms around Arthur’s middle.

 

He jerked back with a yelp as something… tickly... brushed against his hand.

“Merlin?”

Merlin didn’t answer.  He squinted at Arthur, looking for the culprit before it caught his eye.  He turned around Arthur’s ID card, whispered a spell under his breath, and looked at the newly revealed lock of blond hair - Arthur’s hair.  “Well,” Merlin said. “That’s the source then.”

“That’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?”

Merlin flashed him a  _ look _ .  Arthur bit his lip, “Sorry.”

 

Gaius was still researching when they ran in, brandishing Arthur’s ID card and the hair stuck on the back.

“Interesting,” Gaius said, and then he didn’t say anything at all for a long moment.

“Any ideas?” Merlin asked finally.

“Several.”  Gaius didn’t deign to elaborate.

“Very helpful,” Merlin said.  He waved for Arthur to sit and looked at Gaius.  “Is this the part where you start speaking, or when you carry on without speaking and I join in the search?”

“Join in,” Gaius decided.  “Arthur, take a half-day, I can’t spare Merlin to supervise you.”

“No, I can’t.  I went home early yesterday - if I do it twice in a row, Uther will ask why, and I’ll tell him the truth.”

Merlin hissed, already flicking through a book.  “You’ll have to stay then. Try and stay out of people’s way, yeah?”

“I will,” Arthur said.  “Scout’s honour.”

Merlin looked over, “You were a scout?”

“No,” Arthur said, smiling.  “I’ll go to my office?”

“Sounds good.”

Arthur left, peeking out the door like a nervous mouse as he checked for Uther or - worse - Olaf, and Merlin sighed.

“How many truth spells are there in this book?”

“Six-hundred-and-thirty-six, if I remember correctly,” Gaius said absently, taking off his glasses and polishing them with his tie.

Merlin grimaced, “And how many involve hair?”

“A little over one-hundred-and-fifty, I believe,” he said, putting his glasses back on and looking over a new book.

“Wonderful,” Merlin huffed, pulling over a pile of books.

 

Arthur knew what he was  _ meant  _ to do.  He’d been meaning to talk to his Knights ( _ agents _ ; damn it, Merlin) for a while, but if he went speaking to them now when he’d have to be honest about how likely they were to survive their missions… well, it wouldn’t be good.  So he did as Merlin said, keeping out of people’s way and going to his office. If he couldn’t speak to anyone, he’d put his earphones in and do some filing. It was about time he got it sorted.

 

Someone cleared their throat behind him and he started around.

“Mr Trickler,” he said with dignity, tugging out his earphones.  “What can I do for you?”

He walked closer to Arthur, closing the door behind him, and Arthur wondered how he’d got in - he was sure he’d locked the door behind him.

“I was hoping you could answer a question for me, Agent Pendragon.”

“That depends on the question, doesn’t it?” Arthur said suspiciously, knowing - as Mr Trickler almost certainly did, too - that today, it really didn’t.

Mr Trickler laughed a little, “Indeed it does.  Well,” he smiled and Arthur instinctively took a step back, “Mr Alined and I were a little curious.  We were wondering if your father had ever mentioned a man named Drakon.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Arthur said tightly.  He’d heard a lot about him, especially when he was young and the wounds his mother’s death and the Uprising had given Uther were still raw.  Uther could be rather… indiscreet when ranting.

“I thought so,” Mr Trickler said with a nod.  “So, has he ever mentioned where he might be?”

Arthur let out a breathless laugh, relieved, “Six feet under, I’d assume, else we’d all be out searching for him.”

“I see,” Mr Trickler said, more than a little disappointed.

“If you’d excuse me,” Arthur said, motioning to the door.  Mr Trickler took the hint and left. Arthur waited a moment to be certain he was gone and then started off at a run for the medical room.

 

“Arthur!” Merlin grinned as he came in, “I was just about to call you - I think I’ve got the counterspell.”

Gaius looked at him dubiously, “You’re sure?  You’re not going to turn him into a hunchback camel or horny-eyed toad?”

Merlin laughed, “I’ll save that for another day.  Now-”

“Wait a moment,” Arthur said, cutting him off, “we have a problem.”

“What?”  Merlin put the book aside, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think the aim was to have me insult Olaf.  Trickler came in to ask me if I knew where Drakon was.”

Gaius looked over, “What did you tell him?”

“That he was dead, obviously.  If he wasn’t, Uther would have us all out tracking him.”

Something clicked in Merlin’s head and he looked from Gaius to Arthur.  “No, no… What if he’s not dead, what if he is being tracked.”

“What?” Arthur laughed.  “What are you talking about, Merlin?”

“Everyone  _ knows  _ that Drakon’s dead, except - apparently - Trickler and Alined.  If they weren’t certain, why would they take the risk of enchanting you and asking about him?  No one ever found the body, we all just assumed he was dead because everyone else was. What if…  What if Uther suspected that Drakon wasn’t dead but didn’t let it get out to stop the Uprising having hope and rekindling.  Just… tracked him on the down low.”

“That’s a rather big if,” Gaius said, but he didn’t sound certain.

“And there’s not an agent in this building that I don’t know what they do,” Arthur told him.  Then his eyes widened, “Except… Morgana.”

“Let’s not worry about that now,” Gaius said.  “Merlin, try that spell.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”  He cleared his throat and murmured under his breath.  “Ok Arthur, tell me a lie.”

“The sky is purple, Vivian is a lovely person, and we’re not about to go and ask Morgana a few questions about what she does for Camelot.”

“Great,” Merlin said.  He started gathering books and shoving them onto the shelf.  

Arthur smirked, watching him, and waited for what he actually to said to filter through to Merlin’s brain.

“Wait, no-” Merlin dropped the books on the counter and whirled around to stare at Arthur, “not great!  I- Arthur!”

Arthur had already set off.  Merlin shot Gaius a desperate look and set off after him: “Arthur, wait a minute!  Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Gaius shook his head and carried on tidying the books.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin said as he caught up, “ _ Arthur _ , think about what you’re doing here!  If -  _ if _ \- Morgana is looking for him - which she might  _ not  _ be - there’s going to be a reason why you weren’t told.”

Arthur sighed, “And what reason might that be?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Maybe to stop you being forced to give the information up like you would have ten minutes ago if you’d known?”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, stopping so abruptly that Merlin ran into his back.  Arthur turned around, “Lord Drakon decimated London and helped turn Uther into…”  He shrugged guiltily, “Into Uther. If there’s even the tiniest chance he survived, that he could start the whole thing again, I need to know.”

“Do you?  And what will you do with the information when you get it?”

“Whatever needs to be done.”

 

Merlin winced as Arthur crashed into Morgana’s office.  He exchanged a glance with Gwen; she nodded and hurried out, giving him a quick, consolatory squeeze of the shoulder as she passed him -  “Good luck,” she whispered.

“Is Drakon alive?” Arthur asked immediately after she left.  “Are you looking for him?”

“Who’s been talking to you about Drakon?” Morgana said, looking… furious.  Merlin hoped she didn’t realise it was him.

Arthur kept silent, staring at her with his lips pressed tightly together.  Morgana grimaced and then gestured to the two seats on the other side of her desk.  The boys took them, Arthur scowling and Merlin gingerly, and waited for her to begin.

“What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room,” she said fiercely.  “It is  _ beyond _ classified - officially, it doesn’t exist.  It never happened. But,” she caught a dark loop of hair with one finger, absently wrapping it around, “you’re right.  I’ve been responsible for looking for Drakon since I started at Camelot. Every rumour, every ‘sighting’, every possible escape route - Uther had me check them all.  There’s nothing, no sign of him. The only possible evidence for his survival is Uther’s paranoia.”

“No,” Arthur said.  “He’s not the only one who thinks he’s alive.  Alined and Trickler. They were asking questions about him not long ago.  You need to look closer. Here, let me help, maybe a fresh pair of eyes-”

“No.”  Morgana cut him off immediately, “You can’t know about this, Arthur, and you can’t let Uther know what you know.  Promise me.”

“Morgana-”

“ _ Promise _ me.”

Arthur hesitated, “Alright.  You have my word.”

“Merlin?”

Merlin started, “Of course.  I won’t say anything.”

Morgana nodded, looking worn out.  “Now, out of my office. Apparently, I have work to do.”

 

Arthur’s office wasn’t empty when he got back, with Merlin at his side.  “Ah,” he said as he opened the door, “Mr Trickler! Do you have more questions for me?”

Trickler jerked around at the noise and seemed put out when he saw Merlin just behind his target, glaring.  “Y-yes,” he said nervously, “I do. Senator Alined sent me to ask if you knew anything about Drakon’s man - Markus, I think? - whereabouts?”

Arthur gave a small “ha” of laughter: “Even if I did, Mr Trickler, I wouldn’t be authorised to tell you.”  He looked at him with just a hint of a threat in his eyes, “Perhaps you should return to your senator’s side.  It’s almost time to sign the agreement. People might wonder where you are.”

Trickler smiled weakly and hurried away.  Merlin watched him leave without even disguising his contempt.  “I don’t like him,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“I guessed,” Arthur said dryly.  “Anyway, come on. We’re needed at the signing, too.”

 

It went off without a hitch, of course, with Arthur freed from his enchantment, though Uther still eyed him throughout, like he expected him to embarrass them both again.  Even as they walked out, side by side, to stand and wave off their guests at the gate, he could feel Uther’s gaze. Arthur bristled under it, but not for long. His mind was too busy, buzzing along as he thought of Drakon, and all the places he could be hiding, and all the other things that Uther could be hiding from him.


	8. Chapter 7 - Operation Idirsholas

_ “Hey, Arthur?  What’s this?” _

_ Arthur looked over from his work to the crystal sitting on the filing cabinet.  “Crystal of Neahtid,” he said absently. “I don’t know what it is, really. Uther gave it to me to mind.  Apparently, he thinks the druid Alvaar might have designs upon it.” _

_ “Huh.”  Merlin stared at it.  It was just small enough to fit in someone’s hand.  It was milk-white; you couldn’t see through it as you could see through other jewels.  He took a step forward. It seemed to… call to him. Entrance him. Urge him forward. It glinted a little in the light of the room, catching his eyes even as he tried to look away. _

_ It said to him…  Just reach out. Just… touch.  Just touch. Just reach out and touch. _

_ He put out a shivering hand and held the crystal. _

 

_ He saw a dragon first.  It flew. ‘Round and ‘round in the grey skies of London.  It flew and breathed fire and laughed a dreadful laugh. _

_ Then him.  He saw himself.  Stood before the fire.  Soot and tears streaking his cheeks. _

_ Then London.  Smoke billowed from ruined buildings.  Camelot shivered at its foundations. _

_ He saw himself.  Crying. _

 

_ He heard the crystal thump on the carpet and then felt tears trickling down his cheeks.  He fell to the ground and clutched his head, trying to slow his frantic breathing. He registered Arthur calling his name, sounding like he’d been calling for a while, and telling him that he’d called for Gaius. _

_ “Here,” Arthur said, and he wrapped Merlin in a coat to try and stop him shivering.  Merlin let out a sob and clung to him, even as his limbs rebelled and trembled. Arthur held him tightly. _

 

_ By the time Gaius arrived, Merlin had migrated into Arthur’s lap.  The coat was still around his shoulders and Arthur was holding him in place, hushing him quietly.  Even when Gaius walked into the room, they didn’t move. _

_ “The crystal holds terrible power,” Merlin said when Gaius came in.  The first thing he’d said since… whatever had happened - his voice sounded ragged from tears.  Gaius wrapped his hand in a cloth and grabbed the crystal, shoving it into a drawer. _

_ “There,” he said soothingly.  “It’s locked away now. It can do no harm.” _

_ Arthur looked down at Merlin, at the haunted look in his eyes, and muttered, “Unless the damage is already done.” _

_ “I held it,” Merlin went on.  He hadn’t heard Arthur - or, if he had, hadn’t registered it.  “I know I shouldn’t have. I  _ knew  _ I shouldn’t.  I knew no good would come of it…”  Rubbing a circle in his back, Arthur attempted to calm Merlin.  But he wasn’t really an expert. “It compelled me to look,” Merlin went on.  “I couldn’t resist it. And I saw… things. Terrible things.” He shivered. Arthur held him tighter. _

_ “Then you’ve already paid the price,” Gaius said reasonably.  Merlin shook his head. _

_ “What I saw hasn’t happened yet, and I’m scared.”  He swallowed hard, “I’m really scared of what the future holds.” _

_ Gaius sighed heavily.  “There is nothing on this earth that can know all possible futures, even that crystal.” _

_ “But what I saw… it was so real.” _

_ “It was real, but it was just one reality.  The future is as yet unshaped. It is we who shape it.  It is  _ you _ , Merlin.  The decisions you make.  The actions you take. Remember that.” _

_ Merlin looked plaintively upwards, meeting Arthur’s eyes and trying to take comfort from them.  “I… I… I think… the decision has already been made. The future I’ve seen…” _

_ “Hey, hey,” Arthur said gently, “it’s alright.  You’re alright, Merlin.” He pressed a kiss to Merlin’s temple that Gaius pretended not to see.  “You’re ok, I promise.” _

*

_ Morgause stormed around a ruined castle, weaving between tall, cobweb-covered figures.  Their armour had begun to rust, and where there once was colour there was nothing but faded memories.   “Cnihtas Medhires, éower sáwla sind min sáwla,” she chanted as she weaved. “Onwác and cóm hér eft. Rid eft ond forsliehð eft.  Gehðu, Uther Pendragon!” _

_ A fire burst into life and the figures creaked into life. _

_ She smiled. _

*

 

A few weeks after his terror-filled visions, Merlin stood at Arthur’s side as Uther read to them and Gaius from a report sent in by a frightened citizen.

“...and then, coming from the citadel near Idirsholas,” he read, “I saw great clouds of smoke.  I didn’t cross the threshold, for fear of the legend.”

“The legend?” Arthur asked, interrupting.

“When the fires of Idirsholas burn,” Gaius intoned, “the Knights of Medhir will ride again.”

Uther nodded.  He looked again at the paper and then at Arthur.  “Take some men and go there. Survey the area.”

“What?  Why?”

“To put the people’s minds at ease,” Uther said as if it should be obvious.  Merlin frowned - Uther was not known for giving credence to the people’s fears and superstitions unless there was a strong reason to do so.  And he wasn’t known for admitting that there was a strong reason.

 

“Why is Uther frightened?” he asked Gaius as the three of them left the room’s earshot.

“Because he knows as well as I that the Knights of Medhir are a force to be reckoned with.”

“ _ You _ believe the story?”  Arthur sounded incredulous.  Merlin frowned at him - surely, by now, he’d learned that stories tended to have some grounding in truth - especially when they involved magical threats, and  _ especially _ especially when Arthur was being sent to check them out.

“It’s more than just a story,” Gaius said with a sniff.  Arthur was good enough to look a little abashed. “Some three hundred years ago,” he went on, “seven of England’s knights were seduced by the call of a sorceress of great power.  One by one, they succumbed to her command, becoming a terrifying, brutal force that rode through the land, leaving death and destruction in their wake.”

Merlin swallowed nervously.  “But… but real magic wasn’t even  _ discovered _ then,” he tried.  It was a weak try.

“It was still practised in secret,” Gaius said.  He sighed, “For years, the Knights of Medhir  _ were  _ considered nothing more than a story.  But then we found proof of the sorceress who created them…”

Arthur grimaced.  “What happened to the knights?  How were they stopped?”

“It was only when the sorceress was killed that the knights fell still.”  His face was grave. “Merlin, Arthur, if what the report says is true and someone has awakened them…”  He shook his head, “Then I fear for each and every one of us.”

 

Morgana ran her fingers over the note she’d found under her hairbrush that morning.  She took in the handwriting - the ‘M’ of her name was formed in the same was she wrote it herself, and the ‘t’s all had the same curl in the tail as hers  - and pressed out the creases. Gwen looked over at her from where she was transcribing recorded phone calls, searching for the name ‘Drakon’ - if Merlin and Arthur already knew, Morgana figured she might as well let the last of their quartet into the secret.  Uther didn’t have to know.

“Is everything alright, Morgana?”

Her voice was sweet and concerned and invited Morgana to share anything she wanted, but she shook her head and placed the note in the drawer.  “My life would be perfect, Gwen,” she said, “if only I could get my hands on Drakon.” She walked over and placed her hands on Gwen’s shoulders, resting her chin on her head to look at the screen.  Gwen laughed and swatted at her and Morgana grinned. “Come on,” she said, not moving. “Tell me what we’ve got so far.”

 

The smile only dropped when Gwen left for lunch - Morgana made her leave on time, knowing that she was going to meet Lancelot.  Then she took out the note again and read it over and over, though this point she had it memorised. She took out her phone.

 

_From:_ _Le Fay_

_ I received a note from _ __   
_ Morgause.  She wants me _ _   
_ __ to meet with her.

 

_From:_ _Merlin_

_ You can’t trust her. _ _   
_ _ Don’t go. _

 

_From:_ _Le Fay_

_ I have to.  She’s _ _   
_ _ family. _

 

_From:_ _Merlin_

_ I can come with?  I _ _   
_ _ can help you. _

 

_From:_ _Le Fay_

_ No.  It doesn’t need to _ __   
_ concern you, especially _ __   
_ not if it’s dangerous.  It’s my _ _   
_ __ duty to carry out alone.

 

Merlin sighed and inwardly cursed Morgana’s nobility, but knew better than to contradict her or - god forbid - follow her again.  (That had been awful, and she was more than able to get out of the trouble she got herself into.) He mentioned it offhand to Arthur and he shrugged - “It’s her choice.  She’ll be alright.” He’d sounded deliberately uninterested, but Merlin saw him turn up the volume on his phone and check that Morgana hadn’t messaged him.

 

“You look well,” Morgause said, looking over Mogana with the same greed in her eyes as when they’d first met.

“Thanks to you,” she said, gently touching the bracelet, running her fingers over her mother’s name as she had so many times before.  “I’ve worn it every night.”  _ After Merlin and Gaius checked it _ , she didn’t say.  “I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare.”

“But you don’t seem happy.”  Morgause frowned and took a small step forward, “Why is that?”

Morgause was wrong, there.  She  _ was  _ happy.  Morgana  _ knew  _ she was happy - just, maybe, not as happy as she  _ could  _ be.  But Gwen and Arthur and Merlin and Gaius, and know they were her friends who knew  _ everything  _ about her and didn’t judge her for it, they made her happy.  “If I didn’t have to pretend…”

“Pretend?”

Morgana sighed.  “If I didn’t pretend that every time Uther killed a sorcerer he wasn’t killing my kin, perhaps I’d be happier.”

“Have you ever imagined a new world, Morgana?”  She spoke wistfully, stepping closer to take her hand.  “One where Uther’s influence is no more?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted.  “But I know that that can never happen.  Not until he is dead.”

“Is that what you would want?”

“No!”  Morgana ripped her hand away from Morgause’s and stepped back.  “I had the chance to be his assassin, once, and I let it pass. Because I realised that, despite his flaws and his ignorance, Uther  _ cares  _ for me.  And as long as there is that, I cannot let him go.”

Morgause scowled at her.  “You are a fool, Morgana. Sentiment blinds you.  Uther Pendragon cares for no one but himself.” She turned on her heel and began to pace: “Tell me.  Are you with Uther, or me?”

“I am with  _ Arthur _ ,” she said.  “And he stands with his father.”

“I see.”  There was something ominous in Morgause’s voice.  Morgana’s hand twitched to the small of her back, where heR gun was holstered.  “It is a shame that I am driven to this. I am… sorry.”

Morgana hesitated, “What?”

Morgause tilted her chin upwards and her eyes glowed gold.  Morgana’s world flashed white, and then all was dark. Morgause looked down at her as she fell to the floor.  “I wanted you to know the part you are to play in our great destiny, sister,” she told her unconscious form as she knelt at her side, “but now I fear that I must make you forget that you ever came to meet me tonight.  Still,” she shrugged, “your part remains yours.”

Taking up a stick, she drew a circle around the sleeping Morgana.  “Acene slæp swilce,” she whispered over her body. “Acene slæp swilce…  Acene slæp swilce.”

 

Gwen yawned as she greeted Morgana the next morning, covering her mouth with a sheepish shrug.  “I can’t figure out why I’m so tired,” she said. “I thought I’d slept well last night, but apparently not.”

Morgana shook her head in mock disapproval and then sat her desk.  “Good job we’re still on tapes, then,” she said. “You won’t even have to stand up.”

 

“Sir, I really must insist that you come to the medical room,” Gaius said sternly.  Uther had suddenly slumped in a meeting, feverish and exhausted.

Uther shook his head, brushed him off, and retreated to his office.

 

Merlin looked around the castle.  It was a pretty ordinary looking castle: big, grey, slightly ruined.  He resisted the urge to step closer to Arthur’s side, knowing the other Knights - two very young ones, ones who’d never had a mission, because the older ones were “too busy to be sent on a wild goose chase”, according to Uther, who was trying to bluster his way through his fear - would notice.  Arthur had drawn his gun already and the others had their hands resting on the grips. Merlin had nothing like that; he recited spells in his head and hung near the back, out of sight.

A terrible feeling hit him the moment he stepped over the threshold.  Adrenaline flooded his systems and made his hands shake. He could taste, in the back of his throat, the mist of someone’s powerful magic.  He swallowed and tugged surreptitiously at Arthur’s sleeve to catch his attention. “Something definitely happened here,” he said, quietly. Arthur nodded, looking grim.  Merlin scanned the room; he thought he could hear something, but maybe it was the blood pounding in his ears. “Did you hear that?” he asked the group at large.

“Hear what?”  That was Arthur.  No one else was particularly interested in what an untrained techie thought.

“A sort of…”  He paused, listening hard.  “A trembling noise.”

“That’s just your knees knocking together!” someone called from the front.

Merlin frowned as the Knights laughed.  Arthur wasn’t laughing, either; he was looking around the castle, straining his eyes as he stared into the shadowed places, and listening carefully for a ‘trembling’ noise.

 

When Gwen slumped at her desk, Morgana swore.  “Are you alright?” She almost ran over and placed her hand to her forehead - “Gods above; you’re burning up!  I’m taking you to Gaius.” She helped her stand, slipping an arm around her waist and placing Gwen’s arm over her shoulder.  Together, they shuffled to the medical room, with Gwen’s head resting tiredly on her shoulder.

“Gwen, Morgana,” Gaius said, sounding exhausted.  A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his brow. “Not you two as well, surely?”

“No,” Morgana said, “not me.  Just Gwen.”

Gaius shook his head miserably.  “Just… Just sit her down on the bed there.  Whatever this is, it’s spreading. She’s the fifth today - and that’s just in Camelot.”

“What?”

“There are people sick everywhere in London.  The hospitals are struggling to cope, else I’d send the worst cases away.”  He reached for a book and knocked a bottle from the shelf. It shattered on the ground: “Damn.”  He started to bend down to clean up but stopped, leaning against the table as the room spun.

“You’re getting sick, too,” Morgana said nervously.  Gaius just frowned down at the smashed bottle and waited for his head to clear.

 

“Well,” Arthur said, keeping his voice deliberately even, “at least we know some of the story’s true.”

Merlin stared at the fire burning in the centre of the room they’d come into.  The other agents had let the pair of them walk past them to peer at it, leaving them to fan out behind them.  “Yeah,” Merlin said weakly, “at least we know that.” His palm itched a little as magic rose to his skin, just barely kept leashed by a pure force of will.  Arthur looked over and shot him a  _ look _ , flicking his gaze up to Merlin’s eyes:  _ don’t turn around, your eyes are gold _ .  He pulled back the magic as well as he could until Arthur gave a tiny nod.  Safe.

“It’s probably just travellers passing through,” Arthur decided.

Merlin hummed, but he felt the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably.  He turned and swallowed. “Or not,” he croaked.

 

The Knights of Medhir looked at the Knights of Camelot - plus Merlin - with empty eyes.  Perhaps they were surprised, because for a moment they just stood, staring. Then, all at once, they drew their rusted swords.  Arthur shot first, the noise echoing in the space of the room, and they watched it rip through the unnaturally soft flesh of a long-dead man.  He didn’t slow even for a brief moment, leading the other undead soldiers towards the agents. The agents did their best, shooting them through their eyes in desperate attempts to slow them, even though it didn’t help.  Merlin cursed under his breath and, keeping out of sight, shot out wave after wave of magic, trying to make them drop their weapons.

It didn’t work.  Their muscles had seized around the swords over three hundred years; there was nothing in the world that would make them let go, now.

Arthur looked over at him; he shook his head.  Arthur blew out an irritated breath - not at Merlin, but the situation - and looked to his men.  “Run!” he commanded.

The pair of Knights turned and began to retreat, with Merlin and Arthur hanging back as distractions.  They weren’t paying much attention to the agents, but they heard the terrible screams as one was cut down, then the other.  Arthur paled and Merlin felt a little sick, too. He didn’t look at the fallen Knights.

“Can…”   Arthur’s voice was hoarse and he couldn’t finish.

Merlin shook his head.  “I don’t know many healing spells.  None for this.” With the agents… out of the picture, he’d let his magic loose.  The Knights of Medhir were fighting to get through it, but they had a little breathing space.  Merlin grabbed one of the fallen agents under the arms. “Come on,” he said, grunting a little as he started to pull, “let’s get out of here.”

They ran as fast as they could, but it was awkward work taking dead men with them, and worse for Merlin whilst he tried to keep his shield as firm as possible.

 

The moment they were free, Merlin abandoned his agent.  “Stay there,” he warned Arthur, before jogging forward. He held a hand up to the entrance and tried not to listen to the fast approaching footsteps of the knights.  “Ahríes þæc!” he yelled.

The rocks of the entrance collapsed, throwing up dust and completely blocking the way.  He looked back to Arthur, rubbing the grit from his eyes. “It won’t hold them forever,” he said.  He walked to the body on the ground and heaved it onto one shoulder, struggling under the weight. “Come on.”

Arthur was watching him.  “Your arm,” he said after a long moment.

“Huh?”  Merlin frowned and followed his gaze.  “Oh. Guess a rock must have caught it.”  Funny, he hadn’t felt it, though it stung a little as he noticed it.

Arthur nodded, then picked his man up bridal style.  “We take them back to Camelot, get reinforcements, search for the sorceress.  Good?”

“Good.”

 

“Somethings wrong,” Merlin said as they came out of the forest.  It was… Silent. “London’s never this quiet.”

“You’re right,” Arthur said, adjusting the body in his arms.  Dried blood streaked his sleeves. “It’s like…”

“We’re the only ones here.”

Arthur grimaced.  “The sorceress.”

“Probably.  She must be planning an assault.”  Merlin sighed miserably, “Chances that its Morgause?”

“High.”  He set off again.  “Come on, Merlin. We’ll get these to Camelot, then ask whoever we can find what’s going on.”

“Gaius,” Merlin decided.  “We’ll ask Gaius.”

 

They placed the bodies in the morgue for later burial before setting off at a run to the main corridors.  Once there, they found crumpled Knights and guards. Merlin froze. “Are they dead?”

“No,” Arthur said, a moment after kneeling at one’s side and pressing his fingers to his pulse.  “No, they’re breathing.” He looked up at Merlin, “They’re just asleep.”

“Asleep?”  He, too, knelt at one’s side, rolling them over to get a look at his face.  He shook at his shoulder, clicked his fingers in front of his face and, finally, sent a quick burst of magic.  He shook his head, biting his lip. “Gods above; what happened here?”

“I don’t know.”  Arthur stood and walked a little further down the corridor.  “There’s more, down here.”

Merlin hissed and hurried over.  “Look, he’s sweating.” He pressed a hand to his forehead: “He’s burning up.”

“So it’s an illness?”

“Must be.”

“Magical?”

Merlin flashed him a look.  “Obviously. No illness spreads this quickly.”

Arthur rolled his eyes at him.  Then his eyes widened: “Uther. Where is he?”

“I…”  Merlin frowned, “I don’t know.”

 

Biting his lip, Arthur stood.  “We should…” He grimaced, “I have to find him.”  He was his father, even if he could hardly stand the sight of him.  Even if - though it made him guilty to think of it - they might not need a coup if they left him.  He glanced sideways, wondering if Merlin thought the same.

“Ok,” Merlin decided.  “You go look for Uther, I go for Gaius, meet back here in five.”

Arthur nodded and they set off in opposite directions.

 

It didn’t take long for Merlin to find Gaius, lying on his desk with his face in a book.  Merlin hissed and lifted him up carefully. He snapped his fingers in front of Gaius’ face.  “Gaius?” 

Nothing.

“Ok, Gaius,” Merlin told him sternly.  “I really need you to wake up about now.  I need to wake you up.” He thought a moment.  “Right, this’ll do it.” He cleared his throat and held out a hand.  Ic ácwice þé.” Gaius’ spine straightened and his eyes snapped open. He grinned, a little madly.  “Gaius!” Merlin yelled, delighted. He waited for a moment.

Gaius didn’t respond.  He was, Merlin realised, still sleeping.  It was a little creepy, actually.

“Right,” he said, trying not to meet Gaius’ blank eyes.  “Alright, er, how about…” He looked at the book Gaius had been sleeping on.  “Oh! We could try this? Ic þé bebíede þæt þú mé slæpest!”

The chair collapsed and Gaius fell back.  “Oh, shit!” he yelled, lurching forwards and catching Gaius before he quite managed to smack his head on the floor.  The force was enough in that awkward position to feel like it would jerk his arms from his sockets; he lowered him as gently as he could to the ground.

It was a testament to how deeply asleep he was that he hadn’t woken simply to smack him upside his head for swearing so loudly.

“Come on, Gaius,” he groaned.  “Ok. I found something. You’re  _ really  _ not going to like it - but serves you right for not waking up the first time.”  He read the words over once again: “Brimstréam!”

Gaius was soundly soaked but simply grinned up at him, soggily.  Merlin let out an irritated huff.

 

“Merlin?”  Arthur poked his head in the door.  He took in the rather wet looking Gaius and determined that Merlin hadn’t been able to wake him.

“Arthur?”  He looked over at the clock, “Oh, has it been five minutes already?  Sorry.”

“It’s fine.  I haven’t found Uther yet, but I didn’t get chance to look in his office.”

“Alright.”  Merlin sent a quick spell to dry Gaius off and placed a pillow under his head.  “Let’s go check.”

 

They almost tripped over Gwen, who’d fallen in the middle of the hall.   “Oh gods,” Merlin groaned. He hurriedly crouched beside her, running his hand over the back of her head, checking for lumps.  He looked relievedly to an anxious looking Arthur, “She’s ok.”

“Good.”  Arthur picked her up without too much effort.  “Get that door, Merlin. There’s a bed in there.”

They lay her down as gently as they could and Merlin checked her over once again before they left, leaving the door open so a breeze could creep in and cool her down.

 

A chill crept up Merlin’s spine.  He stiffened a little and grabbed Arthur’s eyes, tilting his head towards the door -  _ there’s someone there. _  Arthur nodded and drew his gun.  He tiptoed closer to the door whilst Merlin stayed where he was, raising his hands, ready to defend Gwen.

Morgana burst into the room, gun out, and screamed to find Arthur’s gun in her face.  Arthur yelled in surprise and then shoved it back into the holster. “God, Morgana! It’s us - just us.  What’s happened here?”

She put her gun away, visibly relieved.  “Arthur, Merlin - I didn’t know it was you.”

“Hey, hey...”  Arthur wrapped his arms around her.  “Calm down, Morgana. Just tell us what happened.”

Morgana waited a few moments, her eyes closed, before pulling away.  “People were complaining about feeling ill,” she said, quietly. “And then they just… fell asleep.  Everywhere.”

“Was anyone here?” Merlin asked, stepping forward.  She shook her head. “Then why were you hiding?”

“I told you - I didn’t know it was you.”

“Where’s Uther?” Arthur said.

“I don’t know.  I’ve not seen him all day.”

Arthur nodded.  Then: “How are you awake?”

“I…  I don’t know.”

“It must be the magic,” Merlin decided.

“But Gaius was asleep, too.”

“Well, Morgana has more magic than he does and uses it more.  That’d have an effect.”

“So you’ll stay awake, too.”

“But if the spell’s still in effect, you won’t.”

Arthur paused, thinking about this for the first time.  “Just make sure I get a pillow.”

 

Uther was, as expected, in his office.  He’d slumped over his table. Arthur hissed and lifted him, keeping him upright as Merlin checked him for bruises.  “He’s alright,” he said. Arthur flashed him a look. “Well,” he amended. “He’s as alright as everyone else. All we have to do is find a counter-spell and wake them up.”

“Merlin,” Morgana said.  Her voice was nervous and she was looking out of the window.  “We have a problem.”

He hurried over.  “Oh, hell,” he said.  “Arthur, it’s the knights.  All seven - plus an extra.”

“Who’s the extra?”

“I don’t know.  But we’re completely defenceless.”

Arthur grimaced.  “They’ll be after Uther.  And they’ll come here first.”

“So we move him,” Merlin said.

“Right.”  Arthur pulled the chair out and grabbed Uther under his arms.  “You two get his legs.”

“Where are we-?”  Uther let out a snore and Merlin choked on a snigger.  Arthur shot him another look. “Sorry. Er, where are we actually taking him?”

“Emergency room.  We can lock it from the outside.”

 

With Uther safely placed on the bed, Arthur let himself relax a little.  He was that relaxed, in fact, that he let himself collapse against the door.

It was only then that he realised how heavy his limbs felt.  Merlin rubbed a hand over his eyes and then looked, horrified at Arthur, “Are you alright?”

Arthur shook his head.  “You’re feeling it, too?”

Morgana stared at them both, looking terrified.  Merlin could relate. “We’re getting sick, too.”

“But you shouldn’t…”

Merlin bit the inside of his cheek, “I know.  Morgana, are you ok?” She nodded. Merlin looked back at Uther, squashing down any suspicions that he definitely hadn’t had.  “Ok.” He sat down on the floor, not sure he wanted to stand any longer. “Could you… lock the door?”

She did so as Arthur staggered over and sat beside Merlin, who couldn’t help but lean against his side.  “I’m going to call Mr Kilgharrah,” he said. “He’s meant to be a dragon, he says. Maybe that gives him immunity.”  He pulled out his phone and dialled the number. Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist. Morgana shot them a curious look but, blessedly, didn’t say a word.  She took a seat on a chair. It kept ringing until going to answerphone. He pulled it away from his ear and looked pleadingly at it: “Please don’t you be asleep, too.”

“Try again?” Arthur said.  Merlin nodded. He dialled again.

“Don’t pretend,” he said as it rang.  “I know you’re there.” Mr Kilgharrah picked up and Merlin could have cheered.  “Mr Kilgharrah, I-”

“I don’t need to listen to you, Emrys.  You always say the same thing; ‘Help me’.  And yet you refuse to give anything in return.  Now you will face the consequence of that decision.  London’s end is nigh, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I know I promised to help, and I will.  But I can’t do anything if we’re dead!” Kilgharrah laughed tinnily from the other end of the line.  “I  _ will _ !  I promise!”

“What do your promises mean to me, Emrys?  I no longer trust them.”

Merlin chewed on his lip and stood, waving off Arthur’s worried look.  He wobbled to the bathroom, locked the door, and soundproofed it. “I swear on my mother’s life,” he said, feeling sick.

The silence that followed this was stunned.  “Be careful what you say, Emrys.”

“Please,” Merlin begged.  He swallowed past a lump he was irritated to find in his throat.  “Please. You have to help me.”

“Her life matters more to you than your own,” Mr Kilgharrah said, considering.  “This is an oath I believe you will honour.”

“I will.”

Kilgharrah was uninterested in this, moving straight on.  “It’s one thing to cast a sleeping spell,” he said, “but quite another to maintain it.  It’ll take more than words to break this spell, Emrys. You must destroy it at its source.”

“Great.”  Merlin slumped a little in relief - that, surely, they could handle.  “Where’s that?”

“Not what, but who.”  Kilgharrah sounded almost amused.  Merlin’s heart thumped out a warning.  “Such spells need a vessel, a constant living presence to give them strength.”  He could almost hear the smugness as Kilgharrah said, “The source of this pestilence is the witch.  Morgana.”

“No,” Merlin breathed.  “No, it can’t be. She’d never…”  The thought of when she nearly assassinated Uther crept into his mind.  He shoved it roughly aside. “You’ve spoken to her. You  _ helped  _ her!”

“To save your life,” Kilgharrah said, irritated.  “I have warned you about her in the past and you refused to listen.  So listen now: she is  _ dangerous _ .”

“No.”  Merlin shook his head, though he couldn’t exactly be seen.  Morgana was dangerous, but only to her enemies. And Arthur and Merlin and Gwen - they weren’t her enemies.

“And now she has chosen to turn her back on her own.”

_ She wouldn’t.  She wouldn’t.  _ “But, Gwen’s here, and Arthur, and…  And me.”

“You think that matters to the witch?”

“She saved my life.  We’re friends. And Gwen’s her best friend and Arthur…  She calls Arthur her  _ brother _ !”  There was a long silence.  He sighed. “How…” His heart broke a little, “How do I stop her?”

“That’s simple, young warlock!”  He sounded far too gleeful as he told him, “You must kill her.”

“No,” he whispered.

“The spell is woven with magic of such power that even you aren’t immune.  You  _ must  _ act now before it’s too late.  If you do not, Camelot, London, perhaps even Britain will fall.  Arthur will die and the future you were destined to share will die with you.”

Merlin  _ really  _ hated it when people used Arthur against him.  Especially Kilgharrah. “ _ Fuck _ you,” he hissed, putting as much of his anger in as possible before hanging up.  He gave himself a moment, breathing deeply, before standing and opening the door.

 

“You’ve got an answer?” Arthur asked immediately.

“I don’t know,” Merlin said.  “I need to check a few things in the medical room…  The cost might be too high and it might not even be possible, to begin with.”

“Then we’ll go now.”  Arthur hauled himself up, disguising the struggle as best he could and checked on Uther a final time before unlocking the door and going through.  Merlin and Morgana followed and, after Arthur locked up behind them, Merlin cast a quick ward. The effort set his head spinning, but he was fairly sure it worked.  “No one but us will be able to find this door until I take the ward off.”

 

They walked the corridors in single file, melting into the shadows whenever they felt even a hint of paranoia.  It  _ was  _ paranoia until they heard the footsteps coming towards them.

The three of them hurried into an alcove and stared, eyes wide, looking for the knights.  They passed, with a blonde woman at the helm.

“Morgause,” Merlin groaned under his breath.  Even though they’d basically known, it was still a blow that hit deep in his gut - especially as it gave weight to Kilgharrah’s theory that Morgana might have been tempted.  Instinctively, he flung out an arm against Arthur’s chest, holding him in place.

“Morgause?” Morgana echoed.  She leaned forward to look.

“You’re surprised?” Merlin asked.

“I haven’t spoken to her in ages,” she said.  “I decided not to go after the letter. I… You were right.  I couldn’t trust her.”

“You didn’t go?”

Morgana shook her head.

 

The footsteps faded away and Merlin looked to the Pendragon siblings.  “Go find somewhere easily defensible. I’ll go to the medical room, find what I need, and meet you there.”

“Merlin-” Arthur started.

“No,” Merlin cut him off.  “I can hide myself from them but not three of us.”  He pointed, “Go on.” They both hesitated and he sighed, “I’ll be fine.  I promise.”

After an agonised moment Arthur nodded and, taking Morgana’s hand, started to run through the halls.

 

The medical room wasn’t the haven it usually was without Gaius’ influence.  It was deathly still, deathly silent, and Merlin could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he tried desperately to  _ think _ .  Gods... he was so tired, his thoughts kept swimming away from him.  Morgana  _ was  _ good - she wouldn’t betray them - but Kilgharrah thought she had - but she  _ didn’t  _ see Morgause - but she could be lying…

He groaned a little and flung open a little cupboard.  An evidence cupboard, where Gaius kept certain pieces of evidence confiscated from suspects.  Before he could lose his nerve, he grabbed a small vial of hemlock and poured it into a water bottle which he then topped up at the sink.  Then, to make it look like he really had been searching for a magical solution, he took the book from the desk.

He felt sick as he ran to where Morgana and Arthur were waiting.

 

“Anything?” Arthur asked hopefully.  He was stood at the doors of the canteen, waiting to fetch Merlin in.  Morgana was barricading the rest of the entrances, reinforcing it with magic.

“We have to destroy the source of the magic,” Merlin told him, placing the book and the bottle on a nearby table.

“Which is?”

He hesitated.  “I don’t know.”

Arthur hissed but didn’t say anything.  He took Merlin’s arm and brought him inside, closing the doors behind them but not barricading them.  Morgana walked over to join them.

The growls and groans of undead knights echoed through the halls, coming closer.  Arthur rubbed his face and then looked at them. “I’ll go. I’ll buy you time whilst you figure out the source.”

“No,” Merlin said immediately.  “You can’t go out alone. It’s suicide.”

“We have no choice.  They’re getting closer and you two are the ones who can fix this - I’m superfluous.”

Merlin shook his head.  Then he frowned, seeing Arthur’s eyes droop a little.  “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad,” he lied.  “You?”

“Never better.”

Arthur let his head rest against the door.  “Fetch me a pillow, would you?”

“Don’t mess around,” Merlin said with a slight smile.  Arthur didn’t answer. “Hey, no, Arthur, you… Arthur… You have to stay awake!”  He smacked him on his cheek. Arthur jolted back to wakefulness.

“Merlin!”

“Better,” Merlin told him.

Arthur wagged a finger at him, “If you ever do that again…”

“Well,” he huffed, “don’t fall asleep then!”

 

The roar of the knights approached again.  Arthur looked at him appealingly. Merlin sighed and then nodded.  Arthur gave him a lopsided grin, “If I need a handler in the next life…”

“Don’t ask me!”

Arthur let out a laugh and then turned to the door.  He paused a moment and turned back. “Luck?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Merlin leaned in and kissed him gently, even though he could feel Morgana’s eyes on them both.  Perhaps Arthur felt it, too, because he pulled away quickly. Even so, he waited a moment longer, staring at Merlin like he was drinking in every detail of his face.

“You better not be saying goodbye,” Merlin told him.  His voice was choked, but they both ignored it. “Because you’re going to come back.”

“‘Course I am,” Arthur said with forced confidence.  Then he drew his gun, opened the door, and was running out as fast as he could, hollering at the top of his lungs to grab the knights’ attention.

Merlin shoved the doors closed and levitated a table in front of it, before spelling it closed.  Once that simple task was complete, he found he couldn’t do much more than stare at the closed door.  He felt hollowed out, exhausted - and not just because of the spell.

 

“He’s going to die out there,” Morgana said after a moment.

“I know,” Merlin said dully.

“We’ve got to do something.”

“I know.”  His gaze slid to the water bottle on the table.  He picked it up and considered it a moment. “Do you want…?  Do you want some…?”

Morgana looked over at him.  “Pardon?”

“Oh, gods,” he croaked, which was no answer at all.  “What am I doing?” He put the bottle back on the table and scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, holding in his tears.

“Merlin!” she gasped and ran over.  She tried to take him in her arms but he pushed her away, knowing he didn’t deserve it.  “Merlin, what’s wrong?”

“I was about to do something  _ awful _ ,” he said.  He took a step away from her, putting distance between her and the terrible things he was capable of.

“It can’t be that bad,” Morgana said comfortingly.

Merlin shook his head.  “It was. Oh, gods, Morgana - I was going to poison you.”

She recoiled as if from a snake.  “What?” she whispered.

“The bottle of water…”  He looked away from her, “It has hemlock in it.”

“I see.”  Her voice had gone from hurt to cold, cold as ice.  “Why?”

“You’re the source.  The enchantment is anchored to you.”  He looked up at her. Her face was a blank mask - he couldn’t read her.  He almost wished he’d taken the hug he was so unworthy of. “I didn’t want to - I don’t want to - but he said I had to…  But I didn’t! I  _ couldn’t _ .  Gods, Morgana, I’m so sorry.  I don’t want to hurt you.” He looked up to the ceiling, “All of London, all of England…  But I’d rather see you safe.”

Something in Morgana softened.  She sighed and wrapped her arms around him.  He did cry a little then. One gulping sob before he forced himself to stop.  She hushed him, “It’s alright, it’s alright. I understand. You were doing your duty.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said into her shoulder.

“I know,” Morgana said, releasing him.  She reached for the bottle. “So am I.”

“Morgana,” he said, grief wiped away by a dawning sense of horror.  “What are you doing?”

“My duty,” she said simply.  “If I’m the anchor, the knights won’t die until I do.  Correct?”

“We’ll find another way,” he said, not daring to answer lest he encourage her.  “Gods, Morgana. I was wrong to think of  _ that  _ as a solution - you don’t have to consider it, too.”

“No, you weren’t wrong.  I’d have thought of it, too.”  She looked at the door, “Could you find a way quick enough to save Arthur?”

He clenched his jaw.  “There has to be another way,” he managed.

She nodded, smiling sadly at him as if he’d answered the question.  “Look after my brother, Merlin,” she said. Then the smile turned wicked, playful: “Though I can see you’ll have no problem with that.”

 

Before Merlin had chance to give another protest, to say another word, Morgana had drunk the tainted water.  For a moment, she seemed fine, and Merlin dared to think, maybe it didn’t work. Maybe she’ll be ok.

Then her breath hitched.

It was little more than a hitch, at first.  And then it was a gasp. She was gasping and choking and then she was on the floor.  Merlin was at her side in a second, gathering her as best he could in his arms. He tucked her hair away from her face and rocked her gently.  “You’re alright,” he lied, tears coming freely now. She shook her head weakly, crying too, though she tried to smile.

 

_ Morgause clutched at her throat and set off at a run. _

 

The door exploded open, scattering the barricades like they were made of paper.  Morgause bent down to their level and snatched Morgana from Merlin’s arms like a rag doll.  “What has he done to you?” she whispered to the silent Morgana.

“Nothing,” Merlin said, standing.  He drew himself up to his full height and looked Morgause in the eye.

“You  _ poisoned  _ her,” she spat.

“No.  I just told her the truth, something you failed to do.  She’s the source, isn’t she? I told her, and…” He shrugged, trying to radiate a detachment and calmness he didn’t feel.  There was a buzz at the back of his mind, a cold, logical voice that said, if he played his cards right, there might be a happier ending than he’d thought.  Morgause was evil - but she loved Morgana. And she’d shown her hand by abandoning the search for Arthur to come to her sister.

“Tell me what she used,” Morgause said, giving Merlin exactly what he wanted.  “Tell me and I can save her!”

“First,” Merlin said cooly, “stop the attack.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“If you want to know what poison it was, you will end the magic that drives those knights.”

She tried another tack: “Tell me, or you die.”

Merlin swallowed nervously.  He didn’t doubt that she could strike him down where he stood if her temper got the better of her.  “Then she will die with me.” He saw Morgause’s flinch and started to press his advantage. “I don’t want this any more than you do.  But you leave me no choice. Stop the spell and you can save her. Or keep up your destruction and lose her.”

Morgause hesitated a moment, her eyes so wide and wild that Merlin could see the whites of them.  “Astýre ús þanonweard! Cnihtas Medhires, éower sáwla. Rid eft ond forsliehð eft.”

Merlin nodded.  “Hemlock,” he told her as Arthur appeared, unnoticed, at the door.

She hissed at him.  “This is not over. You will pay for this, I promise you that.  Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!”

Merlin watched them disappear in a cloud of dust and smoke.

 

“Morgana!” Arthur yelled, running in.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed.  “Shit.” He ran over, “Arthur, Arthur, stop, there’s nothing you can do.  Morgause is the only one who can help her now.”

“What?”

“She was the anchor,” Merlin said.  “I was going to do… something about it.  But… She did it for me. She took hemlock.  Morgause can heal her.”

Arthur looked heartbroken.  “I see,” he said. “We need to speak to Uther.”

Merlin nodded.  They walked the corridors and took the spell off the door.  Luckily for them both, Uther was just waking up as Arthur reached his side.  Merlin left them to speak and grieve in privacy. Gwen and Gaius would be waking, too.  He should be there.

 

“It was the right thing,” Gaius told him later, over dinner.  “No one can fault you for your thinking.”

“ _ I  _ can,” Merlin said.  “If I hadn’t brought the hemlock - if I hadn’t put the thought in her head - gods, if I hadn’t told her, she’d be here.  Safe. And Morgana’s your friend, too. I know you can’t be happy.”

“I’m not happy,” Gaius admitted.  “But if she hadn’t done what she did, would we still be sitting here?”

“No,” he sighed.  “Probably not.” He looked at the food, half-cold now, and stood.

“Where are you going?”

“I…”  He swallowed.  “I’ll be back soon.  But there’s something I have to do.”

 

Kilgharrah was waiting for him in Hyde Park when he arrived with a sword swiped from a dead knight.  “The time has come, young warlock,” he said, smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile, Merlin thought. It was a smile that set his nerves on edge.

“You were wrong,” Merlin blurted out, before anything else.  “Morgana is good - she saved all our lives.” Kilgharrah stared at him a moment and Merlin sighed.  “Where will you go?”

“I’m the last of my kind,” he said.  “There is only one road I can take.”

“What does that mean?”

“You will see.”

The cryptic answer set the alarms in the back of his head to ringing, but what could he do?  His mother’s life was forfeit. He whispered the spell that Kilgharrah had placed in his mind.  He could see golden threads wrapping around Kilgharrah and culminating in a large knot at his chest.  “Before I do this,” he said, “you must promise that you will not harm London. You won’t harm Camelot.”

One of Kilgharrah’s eyebrows twitched upwards.  “I think enough bargains have been struck, don’t you?”

Merlin swallowed.  This was dangerous.  This was dangerous ground - and he couldn’t leave it behind, because his mother was in danger.  “Ic bebeode þisne sweord þæt hé forcierfe þá bende þæra dracan. Un clýse!” He raised the sword and swung as hard as he could.  It clattered into the knot with an explosion of light that forced him to look away, shielding his eyes.

When it faded, he looked back.  Kilgharrah stood, tall and proud, and roared into the sky.  With a flap of his wings, he flew into the air. Merlin watched after him, dread sitting as a weight in the pit of his stomach.


	9. Chapter 8 - Operation Dragonlord

_ “I know you’re tired, men, but make one last effort for me.   Every shot must count!” _

 

Merlin watched the cameras in mute horror as Arthur desperately rallied his men against the dragon - against Kilgharrah - against the terror  _ he  _ had unleashed upon London.  Because Kilgharrah wasn’t restricting his vengeance to Camelot; no, even as he focussed the majority of his anger on them, he took out homes and police stations and shops and  _ anything  _ in London, deeming them complicit in the Purge.

“I don’t think the people can survive a third night of this,” he heard Gwen say behind him, voice hoarse with tears.

“We must trust in Arthur and his men,” Gaius said grimly.  He placed a gentle hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“I do,” Gwen whispered.  “Of course I do.”

Merlin swallowed and said what they all thought: “But what chance can they have against a dragon?”

 

Arthur came back battered and bruised.  Merlin nearly sobbed to see him and took him, along with bandages, to his office; the medical room was too crowded now to house the walking wounded.

“Oh, gods,  _ Arthur _ ,” he choked, as Arthur removed his shirt to reveal a variety of cuts and bruises and angry looking burns.  He stood frozen for a moment, clutching his supplies, before snapping into action. He cleaned them as gently as he could, letting up as soon as Arthur flinched.  Then came burn cream and so many bandages, and a fresh shirt from the ones Merlin had collected and shoved in the drawers when he’d had the chance. “I’m sorry you have to do this,” he murmured.  “Who… Who did we lose?”

Arthur began listing Knights, some Merlin knew and some he didn’t, but then his voice faltered.  His throat convulsed before he managed to force out, “Kay.”

“Oh.”  Merlin wrapped his arms around him, careful of his injuries.  “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

“I-”  Arthur broke off and hugged Merlin tightly.  It was a long moment before he managed, “It was a quick death, mercifully.  I… I don’t believe he suffered.”

What could you say to that?  Merlin didn’t know; he just held on to Arthur and didn’t say anything as Arthur tried and failed to hide that he’d started to cry.

 

An alarm began to blare loudly and Arthur swore.  Merlin let him go and helped him stand. “You don’t have to go,” he said weakly.  “You’re hurt.”

“I do,” Arthur said firmly.  “I won’t send my men to do something that I am not willing to do.”

Merlin sighed and said, “Be careful, Arthur.”  He leaned in and kissed him softly, before murmuring, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Arthur said back, giving him one last soft look before running out of the room at top speed.

Merlin waited a moment after he’d run outside, yelling to his men to, “Stay strong!  Tonight is not your night to die - I will make sure of it!” Then he stormed outside, grabbing Arthur’s spare gun from the bottom drawer.

 

Kilgharrah must have sensed him coming - he turned away from his target and came towards Merlin, standing in an empty field where no one but he could get hurt.  “Fluge, gár,” he whispered. The gun felt hot in his hands as the enchantment took hold. He pointed it upwards, hands shaking, as Kilgharrah reached him.

 

Arthur returned to his office not two minutes after he’d left it - the dragon had turned back the way it’d come.  No one knew why, but no one complained. Merlin wasn’t there, which he supposed made sense. He hurried down to the cameras.  Merlin’s was unoccupied. He frowned at it and took the seat. Gaius and Guinevere watched him put on the headphones.

He heard the shots as they bounced off the dragon’s stomach.  He heard it laugh, “Do not think your petty magics can harm me, Emrys.”

“Kilgharrah,” Merlin said, sounding wrecked.  (Arthur managed not to gasp.) “Why are you doing this?  I gave you your freedom - is this really what you want to do with it?  You’re killing innocent people!”

The dragon - Mr Kilgharrah? - scoffed and flew away, leaving Merlin to stare after him, the gun hanging loosely in his grasp.

 

Merlin was dragged aside the moment he returned to Camelot and, seeing the look on Arthur’s face, he knew why.  “I’m so sorry,” he said when they were away from everyone else, but before Arthur had a chance to speak. Arthur looked around them, looking nervous as if they might be overheard, but no one was paying attention to them.  Those who were healthy had gone to the emergency accommodation to rest before the next attack and those who weren’t were busy being tended to by Gaius.

“The dragon,” Arthur said, “that’s Mr Kilgharrah?”

“Yes,” he said miserably.  “That’s his ‘true form’ - he traded it to the goddess in order to enter this life, apparently.”

Arthur filed that fact away but then moved on, “How is he a dragon?  He was a man not long ago.”

Merlin’s lower lip wobbled and then he told him everything: the bargain he’d made for information, the oath he’d sworn, and how he tried to find out Kilgharrah’s intentions but was brushed off.  Then he said again, “I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“It’s ok-”

“It’s not.”  He waved a hand at the makeshift treatment area: “All those people, they’re hurt because of me.  The injuries, the damage, the dead - it’s all on me. How is that ok?”

“Alright,” Arthur conceded, “it’s not ok.  But it’s not your fault - you didn’t know what he’d do, and you didn’t force him to.  And we’re going to fix it. There’s a briefing tomorrow, where we can make a proper plan.”  He tried to smile at Merlin. Merlin tried the same but ended just giving a pained grimace. Arthur squeezed his shoulder and then said, “Go on, help Gaius and then get some rest.”

 

There weren’t enough rooms for all of Camelot’s staff.  Merlin was in a camp bed, sharing a room with Gaius. Still, it gave them privacy enough for him to say, “There’s nothing I can do.  My magic doesn’t work on him. It’s no good.”

“Dragons aren’t monsters - they’re creatures of magic and wonder.”  He smiled sadly at Merlin, “Your powers are too similar to his for them to work.”

 

Merlin stood by Arthur’s side during the briefing, resisting the urge to reach out to him as he told his father, “The dead number forty-nine men and twenty-seven, but there are hundreds unaccounted for.  Most of last night’s fires are out. London will survive - it seems that the dragon targeted Camelot specifically, even as it caused damage elsewhere. The walls are badly damaged, the western section is close to collapse, and I could go on.”

“Do we have any idea where the beast came from,” Uther asked.

Arthur looked to Lancelot, who’d been in charge of that field of research.  “I’m afraid not, sir,” he said.

Merlin tried not to look guilty.

“There must be some way to rid ourselves of this aberration,” Uther raged.  “Gaius?”

Gaius looked grave, “We need a Dragonlord, sir.”

“You know very well that’s not an option,” Uther snapped.  “They were the main party responsible for the Uprising - even if there were any true dragonlords left amongst their ridiculous ‘ancient order’, I would not stoop so low as to invite them to roam our streets.”

“But, sir, if it was our only chance, and there was indeed one true Dragonlord left…”  Merlin looked at Gaius, who kept his face innocent, but Merlin knew that, somewhere in the discussion, they’d veered away from the hypothetical.

“Impossible.”

“But if there was?”

 

Uther looked vaguely ill, likely because the words coming from his mouth were, “Go on.”

Those meeting with him stared, amazed that he was allowing it, even though they knew it was the only option.  Privately, though, Merlin suspected that as soon as the Dragonlord dealt with Kilgharrah, Uther would find a way to be rid of him.

“There is a rumour, sir, that one lived.”  Gaius hesitated, “A man called Balinor.”

“Balinor?”

“Where does he live?” Arthur cut in before Uther was answered.

“Cenred’s territory, Agent Pendragon.  He was last seen in the Enged estate.”

Arthur nodded.  “If the man lives, it is our duty to find him.”

“Cenred was enraged by your interference in his other estate,” Uther pointed out, sounding rather enraged himself and glaring mightily at Merlin.  “He’d kill any person of Camelot the moment they were spotted.”

“Then I’ll go myself,” Arthur said.  “Alone. I won’t be spotted that way.”

“Arthur, no.  It’s too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than staying here?”  Arthur shook his head, “I won’t stand by and watch my men and innocent people die, not when we have a chance to save them.”

“I have given you my orders-”

“And I have told you that I will not obey!”  Arthur stared down at Uther, “Do not make this a test of wills.”

“I am your commander,” Uther thundered.  “You will not disregard my orders.”

“I’ll leave immediately.”

“My concern is for you!” Uther finally admitted, looking desperately at Arthur.  Merlin felt a stab of pity, though he tried to brush it away - Uther had just lost his adopted daughter and was likely terrified that his son would follow.

Arthur looked cooly at Uther.  “Mine is for London, for Camelot.”  He looked at Merlin, “Come. Help me prepare.”

 

Medicines were Merlin’s concern, at the moment.  Not many, just enough to keep someone alive if the dragon followed them.  Just enough to give him time to ask, “Gaius, what does he mean ‘true’ Dragonlords?”

Gaius looked over from where he was folding bandages and frowned, thinking.  “The Ancient Order of the Dragonlords are a magical organisation dedicated to returning dragons to the land, therefore bringing about the new age of magic.  Their members are both magical and mundane but, at least before Operation Purge, amongst them stood the true dragonlords. Men who could talk to dragons, tame them.”

“What happened to them?”

“The Order contributed funds to the Uprising.  It’s even suggested that the one who started the Uprising - Drakon, I mean - was a member of the order, though no one knows for sure.  Plus Uther felt that the art of the dragonlord was too close to magic. So he killed them.”

“But not Balinor.”

“No.  Though Balinor had the gift, he was not amongst their order.  And a good job, too - Uther would certainly have had him killed if he had been.”

“But he didn’t know?”

“He knew the man had some small magics and would likely have interrogated him  _ after  _ he was done with the Dragonlords, but he escaped before that happened.”

“How?”

Gaius smiled wanly, “I helped him.”

Merlin frowned for a moment before realisation struck: “You were the leak?”

He nodded.  “I betrayed every one of my friends and brethren by staying with Uther, by renouncing my magic - it was the least I could do.”

Merlin blinked.  “Gods... Gaius, I never knew that.”

Gaius frowned.  “Merlin… You’ve never heard the name Balinor?”

“No.  Should I have?”

“Your mother never told you…” Gaius said, more to himself than Merlin.

“My mum?”

“She took him in for a while.  Helped him lay low.”

“She stood up against Uther’s Purge?  She was brave.” Merlin shook his head in wonder, “You both were.”

“Uther eventually discovered where Balinor was hiding - he went abroad for years and was only spotted back in England two years ago.”

“Why didn’t mum ever mention this?”

Gaius hesitated, “I promised I would never speak of these things.”

“Of what things?”  Apprehension started to bubble in the pit of Merlin’s stomach.  He placed down the medicines he was packing.

“Merlin…”  Gaius sighed.  “Merlin, I have always treated you as my son, but I am only your uncle.  But Balinor… The man you are going to find is your father.”

 

Merlin’s stomach dropped.  His ears rang. “My father,” he said dully.

“Yes.”

“My father.  A Dragonlord.”  He shook his head, “Why did no one ever tell me?”

“I wanted to,” Gaius said, almost pleaded, “but your mother thought it was too dangerous.”

The shock turned swiftly to anger: “I had a right to know!”

“She wanted to protect you,” Gaius said softly.

Merlin shook his head.  His blood burned as he spat, “No.  I had a right to know.”

 

He already felt guilty as he helped Arthur pack supplies into their car and so when Gaius arrived, he hurried over to hug him tight, “I’m sorry, Gaius.”

“I know, Merlin,” he said, gripping him back.  “I’m sorry, too.”

He let go and they smiled at each other.

“Now,” Gaius said, “are you both ready?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, looking around to check.  “Yeah, I think we’re ready to go.”

Gaius nodded.  “Be careful.” He raised his voice so Arthur could hear, too, “Both of you.”

Arthur gave a small nod and smile.  “Come on, Merlin,” he said. “We have to leave.”

Giving Gaius one last grin, Merlin hurried over to Arthur’s side.  He winced as he closed the boot. “You alright?” he asked worriedly.

Arthur nodded.  “Just a scratch,” he managed, walking to the driver’s side and climbing slowly in.

Somehow, Merlin doubted it.

 

They drove out and kept driving until they were just outside of London but not quite in Egned.  There was a pub there that doubled as a hotel. “We’ll stay here tonight,” Arthur told him.

Merlin nodded and followed him inside, watching every flinch and limp with his heart sticking in his throat.

 

They sat together at the bar, sipping cokes (because Merlin refused to let Arthur drink when he’d have to take painkillers before bed).  The barman watched them silently before Arthur called him over.

“We’re looking for a man named Balinor,” Arthur said.  “Do you know where he is?”

The man smiled, “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

Arthur smiled back.  “Well,” he said, “I am willing to pay…” he placed a pile of notes on the table, “handsomely.”

The man took all of them and tucked them into his pocket.  Then, still smiling, he leaned in close to Arthur’s ear and whispered, “Never heard of him.”

He pulled back, cackling, as Arthur sighed.  Merlin shrugged and leaned against Arthur’s side, exhausted, as the man walked away.  “D’you think one of  _ these  _ men are Balinor?”

Arthur looked around, “I hope not.”

Merlin closed his eyes.  “So do I.”

 

Despite the dire circumstances, Merlin couldn’t help but slightly enjoy the idea of staying in a room with Arthur and not worrying that someone might visit and see them.  But thinking of it made him guilty, and he was quiet as he helped Arthur with his shirt and changed his bandages. “I don’t like the look of this one,” he said under his breath, giving it a critical glance.  He grabbed the antiseptic and started to clean it gently, hating how Arthur winced. “Sorry, love,” he murmured, blushing as he said it without meaning to, but not trying to take it back now it was out there.

“‘Ts alright,” Arthur said, his words a little slurred with the pain.  Merlin finished as quickly as possible and then moved on to the bandages.  “What’s wrong with you today?” Arthur asked as he did.

“What?” Merlin asked absently.

“Much as I hate to admit it,” Arthur said, trying for humour, “I actually enjoy your surly retorts.  It's one of your only redeemable features.”

Merlin smiled a little and said, as sarcastically as possible, “Thanks.”  He gave one last tug on the bandage and then tied it. “There we are, all done.”

Arthur twisted around to look at him, frowning.  “Merlin, really, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Merlin lied.  He wanted to dwell on it alone for a little longer, to work out how he felt.

“It’s something,” Arthur insisted.  He wrapped an arm around his waist. “Are you missing Gaius?”

“Something like that.”

“What is it then?”  Arthur hesitated a moment and then, taking a pillow from the bed they were sat on, gave Merlin a gentle hit on the head: “And don’t tell me its worry for London or feeling guilty because I know what you’re like when you’re guilty and this isn’t it.  I know you too well to fall for it.”

Merlin took up the other pillow and hit Arthur’s stomach, mindful of the cuts and bruises, giggling a little.  Then he admitted, “He’s my father. Balinor - he’s my dad.”

“Is that not a good thing?”

Merlin frowned, “I…  I… I mean, yes, I’ve been wondering about him my whole life!  But… I’d sort of… written him off as dead, and that he’s alive means that mum and Gaius kept him from me.  And…” Merlin buried his face in his hands, “He left me. I know he had no choice but, he still did. And, did he not know about me?  Or did he know, but leave anyway.”

Arthur gently pulled his hands away and kissed his forehead.  “I’m sure he didn’t want to leave you, Merlin. When he meets you, gets to know you, I’m sure it’ll be fine.  He’ll  _ want  _ to know you.”

“What if he’s not…”

“What you expected?”  Merlin nodded guiltily.  Arthur ruffled Merlin’s hair.  “No one’s exactly how you expect them to be, but we love them anyway.”

“When did you get wise?” Merlin asked, smirking.  

Arthur swiped at him and then lay down, dragging Merlin down with him.  He kept his arms wrapped around his middle and rested his forehead against the back of his neck.  “Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Goodnight, love.”

 

*

 

_ “Hold,” Leon yelled.  “Hold! Hold, hold!” He watched with bated breath as the dragon swooped over them.  “Now!” _

_ The agents all shot their guns; those who’d run out of bullets threw spears and swords.  Nothing pierced the dragon’s thick hide and it roared - almost like a laugh - and then blew fire over them all.  The agents crouched together, holding up their reinforced riot shields. _

 

*

 

Merlin woke with a gasp, his hands shaking.  He jolted upwards, and whispered hoarsely, “Arthur!”  He looked over at Arthur; he was still sleeping, thank the gods.  He took in a shivering breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. Leon and the men were in danger, he was certain.

His hands were still shaking.  And his heart was beating a hundred times a minute.  His nerves were screaming.

 

So the moment the door opened, the man entering found himself pinned to it, silent and unable to move.

 

The resounding thump woke Arthur; he jerked upwards in a way that tugged on his wounds and made him groan loudly.  He shook his head, as if to clear the haze of pain away from it, and then looked at Merlin, “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Merlin nodded towards the intruder, “Caught this one trying to sneak in.”

Frowning, Arthur clambered out of bed and grabbed a knife from his bag - Merlin hadn’t even seen him pack it.  He stalked over to the man, motioning to Merlin to keep him stuck there, and pressed the knife to where his neck met his chest.  “In a moment,” he growled, “my associate is going to let you speak, and you’re going to tell me your name, what you’re doing in here, and anything you know about a man called Balinor.”

The man nodded vigorously.  Arthur didn’t look away from him, or move the knife, but the flick of his wrist was clearly meant for him.

“My name is Markus,” the man said, his voice trembling.  “And I just- My children, sir, they’re starving. And I saw you at the bar trying to make the bribe, and I thought  you probably had enough money to spare.”

Arthur softened a little, but hid it well as he said, “And Balinor?”

“Balinor?”

“You know him.”  It wasn’t a question.  “What do you know of him?”

“Nothing, I…”

Arthur pushed the knife a little closer, “Do you value your life?”

“It’s been years since I saw him last!”  Markus’ voice rose towards the end of the sentence, almost a wail.

“So you know where he lives?”

“In the forest,” Markus said.  “There’s a cave near to Feyora Hill.  He lives there. But… Don’t get your hopes up.”

Merlin frowned, “Why?”

“He won’t welcome you.  He cares for nothing and no one.  A cave’s the best place for him.”

 

It didn’t take long to bribe Markus into silence or to pack up their belongings, and they were soon on their way again, walking through the forest.  They went along in silence until he noticed Arthur stumble. He frowned but Arthur waved him off, “It’s alright.”

“No,” Merlin said.  “That wound’s bothering you again, isn’t it?  Let me see.”

Arthur didn’t argue, which told Merlin  _ exactly _ how bad it was.  He took him to a tree and leant him against it, lifting his shirt up.  He removed the bandages and winced - he wasn’t Gaius, but even he could tell that the wound wasn’t healing as it should.  The skin was stretched red and tight, and the edges were swollen.

He swallowed.  “Nothing to worry about,” he said with forced levity.  “Just get Gaius to give it a look when we get back.” Arthur didn’t answer.  Merlin frowned. “Arthur?” He shook gently at Arthur’s shoulder and then let him fall gently backwards, against his chest, and swore.  He’d passed out cold.

 

It was only magic that let Merlin carry Arthur for as long as he did, slung clumsily over his shoulders.  He stumbled through the trees, trying not to jolt Arthur too much, and could have cried in relief when he came to the cave.  He took him inside and lay him down softly, resting his head against the cave wall. “Hello?” he called. “Is anyone here?”

He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him, and he nearly jumped from his skin when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“What do you want here, boy?” he heard a voice demand.

He jolted around and stared.  This, he knew instinctively, was Balinor.  He knew it in his bones, as well as he knew his own name.  He drank in the sight of him greedily, making up for years he’d missed, until Balinor frowned and asked, “Well?”

Merlin shook his head and snapped back into action.  “My… friend. He’s sick, I think his injuries’ infected - please, he needs help!”

“Show me,” Balinor demanded.  Merlin motioned to the wall where Arthur sat, propped up and sweating.

 

Together, they moved Arthur further into the cave, into a place Balinor had turned into a living room.  They lay him on a soft rug and, even as he was reluctant to let a stranger (though it  _ was  _ his father) see how much Arthur meant to him (it wasn’t good to give a person that much leverage), Merlin wouldn’t leave his side.  He took one of his clammy hands with his and held it up, brushing his lips over the knuckles in a way Balinor wouldn’t see unless he was watching closely.  Then he watched Balinor closely as he cast, “Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurh- hæle bræd.”

“Will he be alright?” he asked anxiously.

Balinor looked at him for a moment and then said gruffly, “By morning.  He just needs rest.”

Merlin nodded and smiled at his father, “Thank you.”

Balinor grunted.

 

Merlin wrapped both their jackets around a bag filled with the softest belongings he could find and placed it beneath Arthur’s head.  He brushed the hair away from his forehead and then joined Balinor at the table when he called.

“I like your… cave,” he said, awkwardly.  “How long have you lived here?”

“A few years,” Balinor said.

“Must be hard.”

Wiping his mouth, Balinor stared hard at him, “Why are you here?”

Merlin rubbed at the back of his neck.  “Right, long story as to  _ why _ , but we need your help.”

“My help?”

“You  _ are  _ Balinor,” Merlin said, “aren’t you?  The Dragonlord. We need your help.”

Balinor glared at him, “If I was him, I would hardly tell you.  That-” he pointed to Arthur, still unconscious on the rug “-is Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon.”

“Yes.”  Perhaps he should have lied, but everyone told him he was a terrible liar.

“What does Camelot want from me?”

“Ah, well.  It’s all being kept on the down low, to make sure people don’t panic - I think all the newspapers are all calling it terror attacks, and the social media is  _ definitely  _ being filtered - but there’s a dragon.  Attacking London.”

“A dragon,” Balinor repeated flatly.

“My fault,” Merlin admitted, chewing on his lip.  “He was the soul of the Great Dragon given human form by the Triple Goddess, I think he said, and I broke the bonds holding him.  Now he’s taking vengeance for the persecution of magic.”

“He doesn’t act blindly, then.  He is not without reason.” Balinor stood from the seat and began to clear the table, “This is of Uther’s making.”

“Well, yes,” Merlin said, collecting dishes and following Balinor, “but the people of London - they’re innocent.  There are men and women and children who’ve never done anyone any wrong. There will be sorcerers, too.”

“Uther pursued me!  Hunted me like an animal!”

Merlin swallowed, “I know.”

“What do you know of my life, boy?” he roared.  “Uther  _ tricked  _ me, told me he wanted my help in ending the Uprising, in stopping the suffering of the so-called ‘innocent’ people.  He said that, after, he would let me go, peacefully! It was a  _ lie _ !  You want me to protect him again?”

“I want you to help us protect London.  Forget about Uther. Arthur and me; that’s who you’ll deal with.”

“I barely escaped with my life.”

 

Merlin looked at him and then sat down.  He looked up at Balinor, “Where did you go?”

“There is a council estate called Ealdor.”

He nodded.  He knew this story from Gaius, of course, but he wanted the detail.  He wanted the full truth - and, most of all, he wanted his father to tell it to him.  “Yes, I know it.”

“I had a life there,” Balinor continued.  His voice had changed; he sounded pensive now, sad, rather than furious.  “A woman. A  _ good  _ woman.  I bothered no one, I practised no magic, but still, he pursued me.  Why would he not let me be?” He shook his head, speaking to himself more than Merlin, now.  “What was it that I did that made him feel he had to destroy the life I built? I had to abandon the woman I loved when he sent his men to kill me.  I had to flee the country and, now I have returned, I am forced here, to this!” He glared at Merlin, “So I understand the dragon’s pain. He knows all that magic and its practitioners have suffered.  You want me to save Camelot?” He turned and spat onto a patch of moss growing from the cave wall, “Let it fall. Let Uther die.”

“You want everyone in London to die, too?”

“Why should I care?”

Merlin swallowed.  This wasn’t who his father was supposed to be.  He was supposed to be… like Gaius. Wise and selfless and the sort of person who encouraged others to better themselves.  The sort of person who took risks to help other people, because that was the right thing to do. “What if,” he tried, “one of them was your son?”

“I don’t have a son.”

That answered his first question then.  Balinor  _ hadn’t  _ known he existed.  “And if I told you-?”

“Merlin...”

 

Merlin’s head jerked around as Arthur coughed a little and said again, “Merlin.”  He was at his side in an instant, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead.  There was no sweat, no fever. Merlin sighed in relief. He was still sleeping, just, but he was ok.

“Arthur,” he tried, voice quiet.  “You awake? Come on, lazy daisy, time to get up.”  Arthur blinked himself awake. He tried to sit up - too quickly, Merlin thought.  And he was right. Arthur was reaching out for help not a moment later, blinking the dizziness away.  Merlin smiled a little, “Alright? D’you want to stand, or to lie back down? Or stay sat?”

“I think I’ll stand,” Arthur decided.  “I feel… great! What did you use? Medicine, or-” he wiggled his fingers in a poor approximation of magic.  Merlin shot him a look.

“It was Balinor,” he told him as he helped him stand.  “His spell. He saved your life - I couldn’t do anything.”

Arthur nodded, his arm slung over Merlin’s shoulder for support.  He scanned the room until he found him: “I owe you my thanks, sir.  But we came to ask you for help of a different nature.”

Balinor snorted and walked away from where he’d been watching them, out the mouth of the cave.

Merlin shook his head, “I already asked.  He said no.”

“Does he…”  Arthur frowned.  “Does he know what’s at stake?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I think I made it pretty clear.”  He grimaced. “Whatever kind of man he is…  I wanted him to be something… more.”

 

Arthur frowned, too.  “I’ll talk to him.”

“You will?”

“Yes.  I’m going to talk to him and change his mind - you deserve…  And London needs…” He shrugged.

“Don’t mention me,” Merlin said immediately.

“What?  Why?”

“I…  I don’t know exactly.  It’s just… I think it’s the sort of thing I have to tell him myself.”

 

Arthur did indeed talk to him.  Merlin stayed in the cave, magicing the plates clean as thanks for Balinor’s help.  Even if he left London to rot, he’d saved Arthur’s life, which Merlin couldn’t just ignore.  Though he was fairly sure that he hated Balinor right now. (A strange sort of hatred, one wrapped up more in severe disappointment than anger.  One that came with the destruction of the romanticised version of his father that Merlin had built himself over the years, one who was courageous and selfless and didn’t let innocent people  _ die  _ because he was angry with one man amongst them.)

“What did he say?” he asked as Arthur returned.

Arthur was wincing when Merlin looked up but quickly cleared his expression.  “He’ll change his mind,” he said confidently.

“He said that?”

Rolling his eyes at him, Arthur added, “Just give him a minute.”

“Alright.  A minute.”

 

Balinor walked back in after thirty seconds.  “Farewell, then.”

Arthur deflated, “You won’t help us, then.”

“I will not help Uther.”

Merlin slammed his fist into the floor.  Arthur glared, “Then all of London - and perhaps Britain, when he is done - is doomed.”

“So be it.”

“Have you no guilt?” he demanded.

“You should ask that question of your father.”

“And you are no better than him!” Merlin roared, finally  _ finished  _ with him.  His blood had started to boil.

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly.

“No,” Merlin growled, “no.  I’m done. You!” He stormed to Balinor and shoved his pointed finger into his chest: “Gaius spoke of the nobility of Dragonlords, and Hunith spoke of the goodness and bravery of her one great love.  What do I tell them when I see them again? That the man they so  _ highly  _ recommended was too fond of a grudge to help them?  Too cowardly to leave his cave? Well?”

“What right do you have to talk to me this way?” Balinor snarled, smacking his hand away.

“I am Emrys,” Merlin hissed.  “No, worse - I am your  _ son _ .”

Balinor stumbled backwards, “My…”

Merlin nodded silently, viciously.  His voice was hoarse when he said, “Gaius is a good man.  You owe him your life. I hoped you’d be like him.”

 

Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.  Merlin nodded and, together, they left, with Balinor still sputtering in the cave.

 

Sat beside a fire - Arthur built it, Merlin lit it - Arthur hooked an arm around Merlin’s waist and pulled him into his side.  Neither of them wanted to think of going back just yet. Going back without a solution, with the news that they faced certain death; what would they say?  What  _ could _ they say?

Arthur said, instead, “I always thought silence with you would be a blessing, Merlin, but it turns out to be just as irritating.  You’re a riddle.”

Merlin smiled, gently, “A riddle?”  He’d closed his eyes against the world, safe for the moment in Arthur’s arms.

“Yeah.  But I’ve grown to quite like you.”

Merlin quirked a little smile, “Quite?”

“Mm-hmm.”  Arthur was rubbing little circles on his hip with his thumb, where his trousers had slipped down a little.  “Now that I’m aware that you’re not as big a fool as you look.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, opening his eyes so he could Arthur a proper smirk, “I feel the same.  Now I know you’re not as arrogant as you look.”

Arthur stopped the circles in order to poke his side.  “You still think I’m arrogant?”

“No, more… supercilious.”

“That’s a  _ big  _ word, Merlin,” Arthur drawled.  “Are you sure you know what it means?”

“Condescending,” Merlin scowled, taking Arthur’s hand in his.

“Very good.”

“Patronising,” he added, stroking his thumb over the knuckles.

“It doesn’t quite mean that.”

“No, no, these are other things you are,” he giggled.

“Hang on!”

Merlin’s giggles turned into a full-blown laugh, and then he kissed Arthur’s annoyance away.  And then, because he knew that in his own strange way, Arthur was trying to cheer him up, he murmured “Thank you,” before kissing him again.

 

A twig snapped behind them.  They sprung apart and both blushed because, even though they hated him right now, he  _ was  _ Merlin’s father who just caught them kissing in the woods.  Balinor furrowed his brows at them but didn’t comment.

“You were right, Merlin,” he said.  “There are people who risked their lives for me - who I owe a great debt.  They must be repaid.”

“Then you’ll come to London,” Merlin said, cautiously.  Balinor nodded at him and Arthur grinned at him. Merlin just squeezed Arthur’s hand as tight as he could and smiled at him Balinor.  “I’m glad,” he said.

 

It was too late, now, to make their way to London, so Merlin and Balinor cast protective charms over the land, plus some to keep them warm, and some to make the ground more comfortable.  It felt strange but in a good way. Casting with his father. Their magic… fit. In a way it didn’t with Gaius or Morgana. Close familial bonds mixing with magic; it was a nice, strange feeling.

Arthur fell asleep before the two of them; his injury had weakened him, even if he hadn’t thought it had.  He’d nodded off in the middle of a conversation, his head falling against Merlin’s shoulder. Smiling fondly, Merlin had carefully lowered him to the ground and covered him with a coat.  Balinor raised an eyebrow at him. “I did not think a son of mine would take such care over a Pendragon.”

“Perhaps not,” Merlin said stiffly.  “But a son of Hunith would - and does.  She taught me to judge people by their own character and actions.  Arthur is a better man than his father.” Balinor conceded the point and let the subject drop, falling silent.  “Why did you never come back?” Merlin asked. “Or write?”

“I thought her life would be better off without me.”

“Why?”

“Uther wanted me dead.  If he ever found me, he’d have interrogated me and your mother - and the goddess alone knows what he’d have done to you.”

“We could have come with you?”

Balinor smiled a little fondly and shook his head, “What life would you had?”

Merlin shrugged.  And then: “When we’re done in London, I will take you to Ealdor.”  He imagined the look on his mother’s face. She’d be happy, he thought.  Perhaps some of the weight that bent her neck and shoulders would be lifted away.  Perhaps she’d still be in love with him - perhaps they’d be a whole family like they hadn’t been when he was young.

Shaking his head ruefully, Balinor said, “She won’t recognise me.”

“Oh.”

“But I see her in you.”

Merlin ducked his head.  “Yeah?”

“You have her kindness.”

He smiled a little.

 

“How did you become a Dragonlord?”

“It’s not something you’re taught,” Balinor said slowly.  “It’s a sacred gift, passed down from father to son through an ancient blessing for thousands of years.  And that is what you’ll become, Merlin.”

“I’d like that,” he grinned.

Balinor smiled, like,  _ I thought you might _ .  “You should get some sleep.  We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”  He hesitated a moment before adding, “Goodnight, son.”

“Goodnight… dad.”

 

There was a little wooden dragon next to his head when he woke the next morning.  He smiled at it and cupped it in his hands. Running a finger over the long carved nose, it didn’t catch on splinters.  Magical carving, he thought. He made it fly, first with his magic and then just with his hands, like a child.

He could hear the smile in Arthur’s tired voice when he asked, “How old are you again?”

“Hush,” Merlin told him.  “I’m just a child at heart.”

Arthur wrapped his arms around him and pulled him so his back came against his chest - Merlin could feel the vibrations of his chuckles.  “Where’s Balinor now?” he asked when he was done laughing at him.

“Dunno, haven’t seen him yet.”  He settled against Arthur’s chest to wait, “He went a little way away from us to sleep.  Don’t suppose he’s used to company.”

 

The pained yell broke them out of their quiet bliss.  They leapt to their feet, Arthur grabbing his gun and Merlin starting to run through spells in his head as they charged towards the sound.

As they got there, Cenred’s men were already leaving and didn’t spot them.

But Balinor was on the floor.

 

“No,” Merlin whispered.  It was a ragged sound, broken-hearted.  But worse, in Arthur’s opinion, was the scream he let out when he reached his father’s sagging body and struggled to lift the head.  He heard the dull thumps that meant the men who killed Balinor were now lying dead in the road. “Tell me how to help you,” Merlin ordered.

“Merlin…”

“Please, no, I can save you, I can…”

Balinor reached, with great difficulty, to reach his hand to the back of Merlin’s neck and bring him a little closer.  Blood was leaking both from the bullet hole in his stomach and the corners of his mouth. “Listen to me,” he said. “When you face the dragon, you must remember, be strong.  A dragon’s heart is on its right side, not the left.”

“I can’t…  Not alone. I  _ need  _ you.”

“Listen to me!” Balinor repeated, intending to clap his son on the shoulder but only managing to give it a little tap.  “My son… I’ve seen enough in you already to know that you won’t let me down.”

“No.”  Merlin gave Balinor’s body a gentle shake, then a rough shake, “No, no, dad, no.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what to do but kneel beside him a rest and hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin let out a sob and didn’t let go of Balinor’s body.  “He can’t be dead,” Merlin said, desperately. “He can’t. I only just found him.”

 

They sat in silence for a while, Balinor’s cooling body before them, before Arthur finally managed to ask, “What happens to London?”

Merlin swallowed and placed his father down onto the ground before wiping his blood from his hands onto the grass.  “The gift of the Dragonlord is passed from father to son. Through an ancient blessing.”

“So you…”

“I…”  He swallowed, “I hope so.”

 

The drive to Camelot was long and silent.  When they arrived, Arthur left immediately to gather his men.  Merlin went to Gaius in the medical room, clutching to the wooden dragon like an anchor.  He barely managed to hold back his tears until the door was closed behind him.

“Merlin,” Gaius cried.  He hurried over and opened his arms wide, “What happened?”

He buried himself in his embrace, still clinging to the dragon.  “I couldn’t save him.”

“Oh, Merlin…”

“He said… the powers of a Dragonlord are passed from father to son through a blessing,” Merlin said in a muffled voice.

“Indeed they are.”

“Do you think…”  Merlin pulled away and looked plaintively at Gaius.  “Do you think I’m strong enough to stand up to him?”

Gaius gave him a pitying look, “Only time will tell.”

 

“You must be careful,” Merlin told Arthur a little later, kitting him out with the proper earpieces and cameras and microphones.  “Don’t force the battle.”

“Of course, sire.”

“I’m serious!” he yelled, sounding just wretched enough that Arthur felt guilty.

“I can hear that.”

“Let matters take their course.  I’ll do my best to protect you, but I may be… distracted.”

“Merlin, if I die-”

“You won’t,” Merlin snapped immediately.  Arthur would not die today - he couldn’t take it.  He would rip the earth to shreds in order to bring him home, today, the balance of life and death and the will of fates and gods be damned.

“ _ Merlin _ ,” Arthur insisted, not knowing of this plan.  “If I do… please…”

He decided to humour him.  “What?”

“My father once said… ‘no man is worth your tears’.  I tell the young agents that.”

Merlin laughed, “You’re certainly not!”  The sniff gave the game away, he thought.

 

The reached the door before Arthur stopped him, a palm in the dead centre of his chest.  “You don’t have to do this.”

“Huh?”

“You’re untrained.  No one’s asking you to do this - there’s no shame if you don’t.”

“There is,” Merlin said.  “I am the only one capable of stopping him.  If I refuse, I doom thousands of people.”

Arthur nodded.  “So…” He gave a little reckless grin, “You’re really going to face a dragon with me?”

“Well, I’m hardly going to sit here and  _ watch _ .   I mean…  I know it’s hard for you to understand, but…”  Merlin sighed and smiled up at Arthur, “Supplies will have my arse on a platter if you lose another gun.  I’m not letting you break this one.”

Arthur laughed and clapped Merlin on the shoulder.  And then they walked out of the office, trying to ignore the fact that it could be for the very last time.

 

The battle passed in a blur of death and pain and fire.  Merlin registered nothing but screams and the sickening smell of burning flesh, until the moment that only he and Arthur were left awake - perhaps alive.  Smacked backwards by Kilgharrah’s tail, they landed heavily on their backs, the wind having been knocked out of them.

Merlin saw Kilgharrah turn to face Arthur almost in slow motion.  “No,” he yelled, throwing out an arm, “stop!”

He didn’t stop.  Arthur only just rolled out the way and then shot at Kilgharrah’s side.  It had little effect, and Kilgharrah swept him aside with little effort.

 

Merlin dragged himself upwards.  Anger burned in his stomach, rushed in his veins.  And then he heard his father’s voice. In his head.  (He wondered for a moment if he was going mad.)

_ By virtue of your father, and his fathers before him, you are blessed to carry the ancient gift of the Dragonlords.  Deep within yourself, you must find the voice that you and Kilgharrah share, for your soul and his are brothers. When you speak to him as kin, he must obey your will. _

He dragged in a smoke-filled breath: “Dracan!  Nán dyd ǽlc áciere miss! Eftsíðas eom ála cræt!  Géate’ stǽr ábære gárrǽs! Géate cyre. Mé tácen átende diegollice.  Car grise áþes.”

Kilgharrah landed and bowed to him.  He did not sound surprised that Merlin had spoken to him.  “I am the last of my kind, Merlin,” he said. “Whatever wrongs I have done, do not make me responsible for the death of my noble breed.”  There was none of the cruelty or the fury. This was just Mr Kilgharrah and, gods above, Merlin  _ hated  _ him for it.

“Arthur?” he called weakly.

He heard Arthur groan and then call out, “Present!”

“Can you stand?”

Arthur groaned again.  “Give me a moment.” It was a few moments before Arthur was up and wobbling to Merlin’s side.

 

Merlin plucked the gun from Arthur’s hand.  He aimed it at Kilgharrah and then let it drift upwards.  He shot it into the air: it whizzed just over Kilgharrah’s head and all three winced at the sound.  He growled a little in frustration. Frustration at what Kilgharrah had done, the position he’d put him in, and the fact that he didn’t think he could lose another person today.

He looked desperately at Arthur, who sighed heavily.  Then he nodded.

Glaring at Kilgharrah, Merlin brought the gun back down to his side.  “Go!” he commanded. “Leave! But know this - if you  _ ever  _ attack us again…”  He swallowed and strengthened his resolve, “I will kill you.”  Kilgharrah bowed to him and he pressed the gun back into Arthur’s hand.  “I have shown you mercy,” he told the dragon. “Now you must do the same to others.”

If dragons can smile, Kilgharrah was.  “Young warlock, what you have shown is what you will be.  I will not forget your clemency. I’m sure our paths will cross again.”  With a great beat of his wings, he was away, disappearing into the distant skies.

 

Arthur and Merlin returned alone and sent the medics waiting at Camelot’s gate out to collect the others - if they still lived, though they tried not to think of that.  Gaius and Gwen spotted them the moment they stepped foot over the threshold of Camelot’s grounds. Gwen ran to them and took them both in her arms, whispering, “Stupid boys - I thought I’d lost you.”

The three of them were still clinging to each other by the time Gaius had reached them.  “My boy,” he said when Merlin let go to smile at him. Then his eyes fell on Arthur and he amended it to, “My boys.”  (Arthur blushed a little at this and made his excuses to go and speak to Uther.) Gwen squeezed Merlin’s arm and went to help with the cleaning up.

Gaius opened his arms wide and Merlin walked in, holding him tight.  Gaius gave him as tight a squeeze as he could manage before releasing him.

“I felt him there with me, Gaius,” Merlin said.

“He’ll always be with you.”  He gave Merlin a tap on his chest, over his heart.  Merlin smiled at him.

“I hope so.”

“Merlin…”  Gaius seemed nervous, which was novel enough to make  _ Merlin _ nervous, before he said, “I know I can never compare to your father but, for what it’s worth, you’ve still got me.”

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I’ll just have to make do.”

They both chuckled as they headed back inside.

 

*

 

_ Markus watched the retreating forms of Merlin and Arthur.  They left behind them a body and a promise that they would come back to see him properly buried, once they knew London was safe.  The tingle of magic that would preserve the body in its current condition lingered in the air and Markus had to put in a good amount of effort to dispel it. _

_ The body was coughing weakly, the spell to keep his lungs still also wearing off as Markus removed the magic from the air.  Blood was trickling from his lips. _

_ “Master,” Markus breathed, running forward.  He held a hand over the bullet hole and whispered words of the Old Religion.  The flesh began to knit itself back together and the body’s breathing began to ease. _

_ “Thank you, old friend.” _

_ “It was my honour, sir,” he insisted, waving away the thanks.  “When I felt…” he shivered, “I didn’t dare hope to see you alive again.” _

_ “Have no fear Markus,” he said, “I am safe.  Have you done as I asked?” _

_ “Almost, sir.”  He was eager to share the good news with him, though it was tempered by his failure. “A deal for the crystal of Neahtid could not be reached.  Alvaar asked for too much - I had to… deal with him. But the Order lives on, if only in small numbers, and with you at the helm once again, sir, we will certainly attract more.” _

_ There was a small, slow smile.  “Forget Alvaar - I believe I can do better than his petty fortune telling.  I believe I can turn Emrys to our side.” _

_ Markus tried not to show his shock, his doubt; he did not wish to show disrespect.  “How?” _

_ A smirk.  “It appears that he is my son.”  He struggled upwards. Markus offered him an arm to help himself with.  “It will be easy to sway him to our side,” he went on, “if he believes it’s in his deceased father’s honour.” _

_ “You don’t plan to tell him that you live?” _

_ “No.  He works in Camelot.  Gods only know what horror stories he’s heard of me.” _

_ “It’s true, sir, that your title continues to terrify Uther Pendragon, even after all these years.”  There was a proud smile - Markus knew he’d spoken well. So he bowed his head, as if for a blessing. “My Lord Drakon, I cannot begin to express what an honour it is to serve you again.” _

_ Drakon smiled at him and then stood, raising Markus to his feet.  “Then don’t try,” he said, not unkindly. “There is much we need to do.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky you guys - you get two chapters in one day because I got excited! :) This (obviously) concludes book 2 - keep your eyes peeled for more oneshots and book 3.
> 
> -Phoenix xx

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed that because it might be a little while before the next chapter is posted. This is just... a teaser trailer. To make sure people stay with me.
> 
> Thanks for reading,  
> -Phoenix


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